by Sarah Piper
“How does Orendiel fit into all this?” Emilio asked, and I turned my attention back to the interrogation. “You claim you don’t know who’s pulling his strings, but Phillip must’ve mentioned something about the fae involvement.”
“Orendiel has his own agenda,” she said. “But according to Phillip, when he heard about Phillip’s work—presumably through a rogue fae that had been working with Jonathan to capture supernaturals for experimentation—he approached Phillip with a deal: the dark fae and Phillip’s hunters would join forces, working together to hybridize supernaturals for their armies, then eradicate both the witches and other problematic supernatural races. Phillip would have access to elite Darkwinter Knights as well as fae technology to meld with Jonathan’s research, Darkwinter would have access to the hybrids they created, and once the war was over and the only groups left standing in power were the dark fae and the human hunters, they would divide the spoils. The fae would become the ruling class, and in return, the magic of the witches would be returned to its rightful keepers—the hunters.”
“Back to this again,” I said, throwing my hands up. It was always the same story. Power and magic. Magic and power. “Do the fae even have the capability to do such a thing? Magic can be manipulated, even channeled. But it can’t be extracted and transferred. The hunters have been trying it for centuries, and it’s never worked.”
Norah frowned. “Greed blinds us all to logic and reason, Gray. I’m sure Orendiel knew exactly how to play on Phillip’s base desire for the eradication of witches and the reclaiming of their magic—the hunters have never made their manifesto a secret. I imagine Orendiel spun quite a tail, and Phillip heard exactly what he wanted to hear, and here we are. Darkwinter doesn’t need to have the capability to extract witch magic, because they have no intention of keeping up their end of the bargain. My guess? Darkwinter will turn on the hunters the moment their usefulness has run its course.”
“So in the end, it’s only Darkwinter that’s left standing,” I said with a shudder.
“And their hybrid army,” Emilio said. “One way or another, we need to get to Blackmoon Bay and end this.”
“You’re too late, detective,” Norah said. “Blackmoon Bay and the experimentation in Raven’s Cape were just testing grounds. For years, they’ve been quietly installing magical infrastructure and soldiers in other cities across the globe. Those soldiers—dark fae and hunter alike—are simply awaiting orders. Once those orders are issued…” She trailed off, blowing out a breath and closing her eyes. Her face was even paler than before, with deep grooves lining her forehead.
“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Emilio asked. “Any other details, names, locations, anything you may have seen or overheard?”
“What’s the point? There is nothing you can do to stop this, Detective. The wheels were set in motion long ago, and now they’re spinning, full speed ahead. Your only chance is to gather up the ones you love and find a safe place to weather the storm.”
“This isn’t a storm,” I said. “It’s a war. One that you helped facilitate. And if we don’t do something to end it, there won’t be a safe place to weather the storm.”
She nodded, resignation heavy on her shoulders.
“There’s an outpost,” she said. “About sixty miles southwest of Blackmoon Bay, hidden away inside the Olympic National Forest. I can show you on a map. I’ve been there twice, both times to deliver… to deliver prisoners.”
“Witches,” I clarified. “Women and girls that you kidnapped and sold.”
“Witches,” she confirmed. “It’s fae-spelled to look like an abandoned cemetery, but there’s a modern facility beneath it, with a high-tech lab, prison cells, and bunkers. That’s where witches and other supernaturals are evaluated and processed for Phillip’s higher-level experimentation. Phillip has since relocated to the Bay with Orendiel, but I’m sure the outpost is still operational. If any of the prisoners are still alive, that’s where they’ll be.”
“How can we trust you’re not sending us into a trap?” Emilio asked.
“Oh, but it is a trap, Detective. Just because Phillip isn’t there doesn’t mean he’s left it unprotected. It’s likely still under heavy guard, magical and physical. Enter at your own risk.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I asked. “Send us right to the slaughterhouse, then collect your reward from your masters for being such a good little witch-slave. Right?”
Another bitter laugh escaped her lips. “There’s nothing left they can offer me, Gray. I’ve got nothing more to give them, and nothing more to bargain with. Everyone I’ve ever cared about is dead. And I’ve sent dozens—maybe even hundreds—of innocent people to their deaths.”
Her shoulders began to tremble again, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight, as if she were trying to force her tears back inside.
“That feeling?” I said. “That jackhammer in your head, the acid eating through your gut, the fire licking up your spine? That’s guilt, Norah. And you deserve every ounce of pain it brings you. I hope you—”
“Gray.” The touch of Emilio’s hand on my shoulder silenced me, and I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent, letting his presence steady me once again. He was right. Ranting against Norah wouldn’t do us any good. For all her lethal mistakes, she had given us good intel. At least we had the big-picture view of their plans now, whatever that was worth. And what she’d said about the outpost could prove useful, even if it was a trap. We’d find a way to get in there, just like we always did.
“Oh, Gray,” Norah whispered. “You can’t even begin to imagine the guilt I’m carrying.”
“You made your own bed, Norah. You—”
She held up her hand cutting me off. “Sophie… I need to tell you about Sophie.”
I gasped, the pain of hearing my best friend’s name passing through this woman’s lips almost unbearable. Not because I couldn’t handle hearing the sound of Sophie’s name, or because I felt like I had some claim on her memory.
But because in that moment I just knew. Right here, right now, handcuffed to a chair and facing down the very end of a life she’d squandered, Norah would only have one reason to bring up Sophie in that way.
Tell me about her? No. She wanted to confess.
A shiver rolled through me, starting between my shoulder blades and working its way down, making my knees weak, my stomach roil, my mouth go dry.
“What… what did you do?” My voice was no more than a whisper, no more than a breath. Again, I felt the calming touch of Emilio’s hand on my shoulder, but he knew, too. I could feel it, the change in his body, the tension tightening his muscles.
“I visited her in your home in South Bay that night,” she began. “Before our coven meeting. We had a pleasant enough conversation.”
“Did you…?” I let the question hang there between us. Kill her? Did you kill her? Did you fucking murder my best friend…
“Did I inject her with vampire blood? No, I did not,” she said firmly, and I blew out a breath. But then, “I merely unlocked her bedroom windows, setting the rest of the evening in motion.”
The room spun, the walls closing in on me even as bits of conversation flashed through my memory of the night of Sophie’s murder.
No sign of forced entry…
The front door was unlocked… her bedroom windows were wide open…
Maybe she knew him…
Maybe they came in through the windows…
The pieces clicked into place in a flash. Norah was already working with Phillip at that point. They’d known Jonathan was searching for me—that he’d been searching for me his whole life. Under Phillip’s orders, Norah aided and abetted Jonathan in murdering her. She knew Sophie was going to die that night. She made it happen.
I couldn’t breathe. I felt myself being dragged back into that hellfire of grief, the weight of Sophie’s death pressing on my lungs, squeezing out my air. Sophie was never far from my thoughts, from my heart, but hearing Nor
ah’s confession now was like being set on fire all over again.
Something inside me snapped, and I lunged across the table, my hands wrapping around her throat. Magic sparked across my skin, electric currents that pulsed into Norah’s pathetic body, calling forth her broken soul. I felt its pull, its resistance, and I shattered it, willing it out of her body. The first gray-black wisps of it emanated from her mouth as she watched in resignation.
“Do it,” she choked out.
As if I needed her permission. Her pathetic encouragement.
You are going to die, bitch…
I tightened my grip. Her eyes bulged, her soul slithering out. All I had to do was reach out and grab it…
“Come back to me. Come back to me, querida. This isn’t a road you want to go down.” Emilio’s hand was on my back, warm and steady, his words reaching across the void of pain and anger, filling me with his love. His patience. His support.
“This isn’t going to bring her back, Gray,” he said softly. “Nor will it bring you even a moment’s peace.”
My hands were still locked around Norah’s neck, but my magic pulled back, releasing its thrall on her soul. The gray-black wisp sunk back into her mouth, then vanished completely.
“Come back to me,” Emilio whispered, and that was it.
I let her go, allowing Emilio to guide me to my feet again. He led me out of the interrogation room, through the back room where the others had been watching through the glass. He took me down the hall, out the back door of the precinct, out into the freezer-burned Raven’s Cape night, where the snow swirled before our eyes in feather-sized flakes and the cold air filled my lungs, washing away the fires once again.
Emilio held me close, his heart hammering against my ear, his hand on my back, the other caressing the back of my head, his breath warm in my hair.
“I’m… I’m okay,” I finally whispered, pulling back to look up into his eyes. In their beautiful depths, I found my center, my heart. “I’m sorry I lost it in there.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for, querida. I’m just glad you’re back. You were…” He blew out a misty-white breath. “You were in another realm.”
I fought off a shiver, snuggling into his embrace once again.
Emilio had been right to stop me. Killing Norah, stealing her soul, it wouldn’t have done a damn thing to bring Sophie back. There was nothing I could do to bring her back—her soul had already moved on.
I closed my eyes, reaching out for her now, remembering her passion, her drive, her love of life.
For Sophie, solving the mystery of the other rumored witch murders and visions she’d had about uniting the covens had never been an obligation or a burden. For her, it wasn’t about some ancient prophecy or magical blood curse or an inexplicable power she spent half her time losing control of, and the other half recoiling from.
No. For her, it had been about something else entirely: love and friendship, sisterhood, the things that truly made life worth living.
More than anything, I wish she were still with me. Right here, right now. She would know what to do.
Oh, Sophie. What am I supposed to do now? Go to this cemetery outpost? What will we even find there?
Immediately, an image appeared in my mind—two Tarot cards from Sophie’s favorite deck. I recognized the cards and their placements from the reading I’d found in her book of shadows.
She’d drawn the Six of Wands, featuring a winged creature with a face shaped like a moon, rising from the center of a flower bud. Five hands raised wooden staffs in her honor, ready to follow her leadership. Then, crossing the Six of Wands, she’d drawn the Four of Swords. In that card, the moon-faced creature was buried in the ground, surrounded by dirt and roses. One sword was buried next to her, with three others piercing the earth above.
There are four of you, Sophie had said. The swords represent four witches. Three standing their ground, waiting for the fourth to rise, to find them and give them purpose.
And then, when I’d pressed for more details, You have to find the others, Gray. The four of you must unite the covens…
Back then, I’d had no idea who the four witches could be. But it was clear to me now. They weren’t just any witches. They were me and my sisters.
I blinked back tears, gulping in a fresh blast of cold air as the implications of those cards—of Sophie’s message—hit.
Yes, we would go to that cemetery. And whatever else might’ve been waiting for us there, we’d find my sisters. We’d find the power to unite the covens and take down the hunters for good. I knew it with utter certainty—more than I’d ever felt about anything in my life, with the exception of the love I felt for my rebels.
My best friend died wanting to help her fellow sisters. She died wanting to help me and every other woman who’d ever called herself a witch, whether that witch was ready to claim her power or not.
So no, maybe I couldn’t save her from Norah’s treachery or the hunters’ twisted plans. I couldn’t even bring her back from the dead, despite my powers—her soul had already moved on.
But I could honor her memory. I could carry on her legacy… by finally accepting the responsibilities inherent in mine.
I could pick up my sword, find my sisters, and rise the fuck up.
“Let’s get back to the lodge,” I said suddenly, my voice steady and resolute as I blinked the snowflakes from my eyes. “We’ve got some troops to rally.”
Forty
GRAY
The fireplace crackled to life at the back of the common room, around which every occupant of the lodge had gathered. Some were sharing couches, others had brought in chairs from the dining room. Some were sitting cross-legged on the floor, shawls wrapped around their shoulders, coffee mugs in hand.
All eyes were fixed on me.
Tucked into my shirt pocket, close to my heart, three small objects gave me an infusion of strength: the Page of Cups card, in honor of Sophie. The High Priestess, for Calla, the only mother I’d ever known. And the granite heart Liam had given me, carved with the feather I would forever associate with him, no matter how long we might be apart.
I pictured the three of them standing by the fireplace now, their eyes shining with love. With encouragement. And with unshakeable faith in me—faith that I was finally starting to find for myself.
I looked out over the sea of faces gathered before me. Some of them—Haley, Darius, Ronan, Emilio, Asher—I’d come to know, to love. Others were quickly becoming like family, too—Elena, Detective Lansky, Reva, Sunshine, Sparkle. And a few were virtual strangers I’d seen only in passing, women whose names I hadn’t even fully learned.
But all of them were part of this. And all of them deserved my gratitude. My trust. My authentic self, flaws and fears and all.
“Thank you all for being here,” I said, my voice steady despite the jumble of nerves inside. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Gray Desario.”
Haley let out a whoop, and everyone laughed. Leave it to my sister to turn this moment into a pep rally.
Grinning at her, I continued.
“I am a Shadowborn witch. My birth name is Morgan Susanna Sil—” I hesitated on the last word, knowing that this moment would change my life in so many ways. It felt big and important, all-encompassing, and I took another steadying breath, letting the feelings wash over me. Inside, my magic simmered, sending tendrils of heat and electricity crackling through my veins.
“Silversbane,” I finally said. “I am the third daughter of a third daughter of a third daughter, all of us descended from the first witches—those chosen by the Elemental Source to be the guardians of earth’s magic.”
A murmur rippled through the group, and I felt the energy in the room rise and warm in response, but no one laughed at me. No one called me a heretic or rolled their eyes or pelted me with crystals. No one stormed out or tried to talk over me. No one called me insane.
Letting out a breath, I caught Ronan’s eye, and he winked at
me, flashing that crooked grin I’d always loved. Next to him, Asher gave me the thumbs up. Darius was next, offering a supportive and seductive smile—I was pretty sure he couldn’t differentiate between the two. Then Emilio, his hand on his heart, his eyes locked on mine, sending me his love. Haley was at the end, smiling brightly, a beam of light I felt down to my very soul.
I touched the cards in my pocket and continued.
“My sister Haley and I, along with two other sisters we haven’t yet found—Georgina and Adele—are part of a prophecy that dates back millennia. It states, among other things, that under my leadership, we’re to unite the covens against all who seek to oppress us, and bring our global sisterhood—witchcraft, in all its many forms and practices—back into the light.”
I told them everything I knew. Everything I’d learned from Deirdre, all the details she’d shared about the original prophecy and the scholarly interpretations that’d followed. I told them the little bit I knew about our birthmother, about what had happened to us as children. And I told them about my belief that we’d find the remaining Silversbane heirs—my sisters—at the cemetery outpost Norah had told us about.
“Whether you’re a believer in all of this prophecy talk or not—and most days, I’m not even sure where I fall on that scale—one thing is certain,” I continued. “We are under attack. A threat is upon us, not just here in Raven’s Cape and Blackmoon Bay, but in cities and states throughout our country and beyond. Witches have been kidnapped, tortured, experimented on, murdered. And this threat, this looming black cloud of death and destruction… It’s no longer just about witches. Every living being is at risk now, supernatural and human alike.”
At this, Emilio and Elena joined me at the front of the room, sharing all the details they could about the ongoing investigations, about the information Norah had provided, and about the fae council’s betrayal, putting every last one of our theories on full display.