by Sarah Piper
“He’s taking care of some other business, but he’ll meet up with you soon.” Deirdre held out her arm. “Come. I’ll show you around the casino while we wait.”
I nodded, numb, grateful to let someone else make the decisions. The conversation with Sebastian had worn me out, and the unspent magic inside was making me feel fidgety, like I’d had too much caffeine. A walk would probably do me some good.
The hounds and I accompanied Deirdre back through the corridor maze to a sleek and silent elevator, which we took to the lobby level below, forty-two stories down. I had no idea what time it was; there were no windows anywhere in sight.
The casino, I learned, was called Inferno—a little on the nose for my taste, but the decor was a good fit, with deep reds and oranges on the carpeting and walls, accented with golden lights and a massive fountain in the center, lit up to look like real flickering flames.
If I didn’t know so much about the owner, I might’ve been impressed.
The main gaming area looked exactly like the ones I’d seen on television—bright and glitzy, screaming with the sounds of music and cheers and beeping, blaring slot machines. The only difference was that this casino was packed with supernaturals, all of them blending right in alongside the clueless humans.
“I guess no one’s immune to the siren call of of the slots and the tables,” I said, watching a fae woman blow seductively on the dice of her vampire companion.
“Sebastian’s built quite an empire on our many vices,” she said. “This is one of six properties he owns in Nevada.” She told me a little bit more about the casinos, the demon security team, and the live shows, painting a glossy sheen over the less savory but even more lucrative parts of the business—prostitution. Drugs. Smuggling of all sorts. I pretended to be interested, and she pretended to be happy to give the tour, and a million unsaid things hung in the air between us.
I had so many questions for this woman, and under normal circumstances, I would’ve leaped at the chance to spend time with her. My grandmother. The mother of the father I couldn’t even remember. A witch, like me, who’d somehow ended up in Sebastian’s service.
But each time I opened my mouth, I lost track of my words. Every potential question felt loaded and dangerous, a Pandora’s Box of possible pitfalls and fresh heartaches.
“Tell me about them,” I said instead, indicating hounds behind us, still glaring at me with those creepy red eyes. “I take it they’re not invisible.” People were definitely noticing them. The humans in the casino shot us curious glances, but the supernaturals gave us a wide birth.
“To humans, they look like service dogs,” Deirdre explained, just as a man backpedalled out of our path. She let out a soft chuckle. “Big, scary service dogs, perhaps, but nothing so horrifying as their true form. Supernaturals can see them as they are.”
“Are they always going to follow me around like this?”
Deirdre nodded. “They are charged with keeping you safe as well as preventing your escape.”
“They’ve got their work cut out for them,” I grumbled, but if Deirdre heard me, she ignored it. “Do they have names?”
“Sebastian has never bothered to name his beasts. As far as he’s concerned, they’re possessions like any other.”
For some reason, that made me sad. Every being deserved a name. Even grotesque, cranky hellhounds. Especially hounds that were going to spend the rest of eternity getting up close and personal with me.
The last time I’d been this close to hellhounds, they’d damn near killed me protecting me in my magical realm. I hadn’t forgotten the sharp pierce of their claws, the weight of those massive paws knocking me to the ground…
Toughen up, buttercup. You’ve stared down a lot worse than hellhounds in recent weeks.
Swallowing my fear and revulsion, I knelt down before them, meeting them at eye level. Their eyes glowed like hot coals, their breath carrying the stench of rotten meat and blood.
I really, really hoped I wouldn’t be in charge of feeding them. Or cleaning up after them.
“Male or female?” I asked Deirdre, tentatively holding out my hand for them to sniff. They approached at the same time, their noses cold and wet as they pressed them to my palm.
When they didn’t attack, I took a gamble and shifted my hands to their heads, rubbing just behind their ears. Their fur was coarse and matted, but not all that different from a dog’s.
And, just like dogs, they melted into two happy, goofy puppies at my touch.
“Aww, you’re not so tough after all, huh?” I laughed, moving in to scratch a little more. When I started showing one more attention, the other one nipped playfully at my hand.
Sophie had always wanted dogs. Two of them, actually. Witches need familiars! she’d said. And we can’t just get one. Two at a minimum. They need companionship, just like we do.
I’d always shot down the idea—I didn’t need a familiar, because I wasn’t a witch. Not out loud, anyway. Besides, dogs seemed like a lot of work.
But now, as they snuffled and licked at my hands, wagging their tails as if we’d always belonged to each other, I was overcome with a sense of rightness so intense, it brought tears to my eyes.
It was crazy—this whole thing was crazy—but I suddenly knew without a doubt that these animals—these hellhounds—were supposed to be with me. Not because Sebastian had ordered it. Not because of any stupid contract or demonic spell. We just… belonged to each other.
“They are both females, actually,” Deirdre said, surprise and amusement in her tone.
“Really? That’s the best news I’ve heard all night.” I laughed. “I could use a testosterone break.”
“Couldn’t we all.”
“Sparkle and Sunshine,” I said suddenly, the names Sophie had always imagined for our non-existent dogs now coming to mind. Her words replayed in my memory.
But don’t let their sunny disposition and happy-go-lucky names fool you. Our dogs are some seriously badass bitches…
With a smile on my face and a little more lightness in my heart, I got to my feet and joined Deirdre once again.
“Sparkle, Sunshine. Come on, girls.” The dogs padded closer, pressing against my calves. I wouldn’t go so far as to call them doting pets just yet, but it seemed we’d made a little progress.
“Well!” Deirdre said, astonished. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“What do you mean?”
“The hounds belong to Sebastian,” she said. “All of them. They’re assigned to demon sworn souls as needed, but their loyalty has always been to him. This is the first I’ve ever known them to bond with someone else.”
A human couple loaded down with shopping bags bumbled past us, inadvertently nudging Deirdre closer to the hounds. Her hand brushed over one of their heads, and the beast let out a contented yelp, licking her wrist.
Deirdre laughed. “Well okay, then. Hello there, Sunshine.”
“She’s Sparkle,” I said. “Sparkle has the underbite, see? And Sunshine has this notch in her left ear.” It looked like something had taken a bite out of it, poor thing.
Deirdre stared at me for a beat, her eyes sparkling, her smile broad. In that moment, she really did look like a grandmother. Like someone who wanted to bake you cookies or teach you how to play bridge.
I was pretty sure I would’ve liked that.
“Would you like to get some coffee?” she asked. “I know the perfect place.”
At the mention of coffee, my stomach did a full on summersault, letting me know just how hungry I was. Shockingly, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d eaten real food. The safe house? It seemed like a thousand years ago, and suddenly all I wanted to do was wolf down a giant cheeseburger, six orders of fries, and a chocolate shake. And maybe some apple pie, too. And possibly some cheese sticks. And also bacon. So, so much bacon.
I smiled at my grandmother, linking my arm in hers. “Throw in some dinner, Grams, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Fifteen
Gray
Deirdre took me to a quaint little fifties-style diner a few blocks away from the casino, tucked down a side street just far enough off the main strip to give us a break from the crowds.
I wasted no time in ordering a full-on feast, and after I shoveled in enough greasy goodness to give me heartburn for a month, I finally felt human again.
Finally felt ready to face some of the questions swirling around my head.
Deirdre must’ve sensed the direction of my thoughts, because she ordered herself a double bourbon, then looked at me sternly and said, “Ask away. Now might be our last chance to talk freely in this city—Sebastian’s goons don’t come down this way. The place is spelled against demons.”
The ominous tone in her voice made me shiver. I hoped she was wrong—that we would get another chance to talk. Despite the immediate chaos I had to deal with, including but not limited to the epic disaster formerly known as my love life, part of me hoped that my grandmother and I would get the chance to spend more time together. Maybe not right now, and maybe not even on the material plane. But she was beholden to Sebastian, too. I wanted to believe our paths would cross again, even if it was in this city.
It would’ve been nice to have an ally here.
It would’ve been nice to learn more about my family—my father—her son.
It would’ve been nice if we’d been reunited under any other circumstances but the ones that had actually brought us together.
I sighed, trying to mask my disappointment. The clock was always ticking, and right now, I needed answers. Answers that would help me understand what Sebastian really wanted with me and my ancestors. And more importantly, how the hell I could get out of this deal.
I waited until the server returned with her drink, then dove right in. “Back in that room, when I heard you talking in my head…”
“Projection,” she said. “That’s part of my particular brand of magic. I can transfer words and thoughts, images, emotions. But only to other witches—it doesn’t cross any other barriers.”
“So that’s why Sebastian couldn’t hear it? Or sense it?”
“Right. He knows I have that power, but he can’t access it. It drives him crazy that he can’t control it or even know for sure when I’m using it.” A sly smile stretched across her face. “One of the few pleasures I take with him.”
Again, I wondered if they were somehow… involved. But I wasn’t ready to go down that path just yet. I needed to understand more about her powers, and my connection to this whole Silversbane legacy, whatever that meant.
“So can you read minds, too?” I asked. I reached for a French fry, then slipped it under the table. Sunshine happily lapped it up, but Sparkle didn’t seem to like fried food. She’d had no problem dogging down half my burger patty, though.
“It doesn’t work both ways,” Deirdre said. “Not unless the other witch has the same power and can transfer thoughts to me.”
“But you knew about the sword-seeking thing,” I said. “From my vision.”
She nodded somberly, then took a healthy swig of her drink. When she set her glass back on the table, her smile had turned grim. “I, too, am Shadowborn. But my shadow powers manifested in different ways. I can read a person’s nightmares.”
I stared, open mouthed. That sounded absolutely horrifying.
“It’s not like watching a movie,” she continued, “so the details are often hazy. It’s more like… I can pick up on the images and imprints left behind. The stronger, more visceral effect a nightmare has on a person, the more clearly I can connect with it. Sometimes it’s a visual thing—I can see an object or a person that appeared in the dream. Other times, I can hear words. Sometimes I can only sense the lingering fear—and that feels very, very real to me.” She took another sip of her bourbon. “Unfortunately, unlike with my projection power, I can’t turn this one off or choose when to use it. Touching someone makes it stronger, sharper, but even without a touch, it’s always there, tugging me into other peoples’ darkness.”
I blew out a breath, then reached for another fry for Sunshine. Reading nightmares? I’d never heard of anything like that. Psychic powers, mind reading, empathy, yes. But to connect with something so specific, so painful… That sounded a lot more like a curse than a power to me.
God. There was still so much about witchcraft I’d yet to learn, to explore. For so long, I’d denied that part of myself. Now, all I wanted to do was dive into it and research everything I possibly could.
I just didn’t have the luxury of studying anymore. It was trial by fire, or not at all.
“Do you know what the swords mean?” I asked. “I’ve had similar nightmares a few times now, and the Four of Swords turned up a few times in Tarot readings with my best friend, Sophie.” I told her about Sophie’s book of shadows, and the readings I’d done since. “Sophie insisted the cards were about me. She’d said the four swords represented four witches—that the one in the ground was supposed to rise up, find the others, and give them purpose. She thought it had something to do with uniting the covens, but I wasn’t so sure.” I lowered my head. “She died before I could ask her anything more. She… she was murdered.”
I wasn’t sure how much if anything Deirdre knew about the story—about Sophie’s death, the hunters, all of the things we’d faced in the Bay and in Raven’s Cape—but I didn’t want to rehash all of those details right now.
Then again, if she could read my nightmares, she’d probably seen every last bit of darkness in my soul.
I reached for my half-finished milkshake, taking a big, slurpy gulp. For an instant, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to pretend that I was a kid again, a normal one, out on the town for a day of fun with my grandmother.
But like all fantasies, this one came to an end much too quickly.
“Gray,” she said gently. Tentatively. And when I looked into her eyes again, I saw the change come over her. Eyes that only moments ago shone with clarity and confidence now held a nervous, contagious urgency that made me squirm in my seat.
Beyond that, I saw only one thing.
Fear. Not the kind that came from bearing witness to someone else’s nightmares, but the kind that came from knowing your entire world was about to go up in flames.
Deirdre reached across the table and grabbed my hand in a bone-crushing squeeze. “We need to talk about the Silversbane prophecy.”
Sixteen
Gray
“The Silversbane witches can trace their lineage all the way back to the first witches,” Deirdre said. “It was the Silversbane bloodline that carried forth the honors bestowed upon all witches and mages by the Elemental Source.”
“To become the guardians of Earth’s magic,” I said, recalling the history. The strongest human bloodlines were selected to receive and care for the magic, but the mages went mad for it, screwing everything up until the Source finally revoked their privileges, making witches the sole guardians. The mages didn’t like that one bit. They blamed the witches for “stealing” the magic from them, and over time, their anger and desire for vengeance warped them into a vicious, bloodthirsty breed of humans we now call hunters.
“Precisely,” Deirdre said.
“So how does the prophecy come into play?” I asked, picking up my pace to match hers. We were back on the strip now, losing ourselves in the anonymity of the crowd. As always, Sparkle and Sunshine kept watch—one up front, one behind, clearing the path from anyone who got too close.
“The original prophecy was said to be delivered directly from the Source, in a series of visions that appeared to a Silversbane oracle in a cave in the lands that later became Ireland. It was passed down orally for millennia, but never came to fruition.
“Some centuries ago, the matriarch of the family—Dubheasa Silversbane—was concerned the oral t
raditions would be forgotten. She commissioned the greatest calligrapher known at the time to record the prophecy and other knowledge of the craft in a series of scrolls to be passed down from generation to generation through the maternal line.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “The scrolls were lost.”
“Lost, destroyed, no one really knows. Witchcraft historians have found remnants of them—herblore, some spellcraft, details about certain rituals, references to the prophecy but nothing of the prophecy itself. Still, echoes of the original visions remained even after Dubheasa’s time, and were once again passed down orally.” Deirdre shook her head, disappointed. “So much of the original meaning has been lost in the translation since then, or embellished, or downplayed. Most consider it no more than a legend now, but there are many who still believe.”
The reverence in her eyes told me that she was one of those believers.
“What does the prophecy say?” I asked.
“Loosely, it states that four sisters will come to power, led by the third in their line—a Shadowborn, third daughter of a third daughter of a third daughter. She will be the strongest Shadowborn witch to live, and through her leadership and the bond of their sisterhood, the four will come to power with the strength to unite the fractured underground covens.”
“Unite them to what end?” I asked, ignoring the goosebumps rising on my skin, the magic pulsing just beneath.
“Those who’ve studied the lore and the history believe that it’s saying the unified covens will rise out of the ashes of oppression, reclaim their power, defeat the enemies who would stand against them, and bring the sisterhood back into the light. Remember, Rayanne, we were revered once. Beholden and respected as the true guardians and stewards of earth’s magic. We kept all things in balance. Somehow, all of that got lost along the way.”
“Thanks to the hunters.” Bile rose in my throat. They’d been hunting us for millennia. Longer than that, even. Longer than they’d even called themselves hunters. And unless this prophecy was true—and the four witches could be found—they’d continue hunting us long after the current generation of witches was dead.