by Sarah Piper
The words were printed on the Tarot card I’d drawn, and I repeated them out loud, tracing my finger over each one.
Life is changed, not taken away.
Emilio, Elena, and the RCPD shifter squad had arrived on the beach minutes after Deirdre’s call. Emilio took our statements, then ordered Hobb to bring me and the hounds back to the house. Not wanting to leave town after the attack on my life, Deirdre checked herself into a hotel in the city.
Ronan and Darius were gone when I got back. Now I was alone on Elena’s couch, looking for guidance from the universe.
Be careful what you wish for.
It was the first time I’d used my new deck, and I’d drawn—of course—the Death card. Unlike the ominous Death card in Sophie’s deck, this one was more peaceful, featuring a pale, nude woman lying on a moss-covered rock in a serene forest. The angel of Death stood behind her in his black cloak, come to claim her soul. Butterflies danced in the rays of light that illuminated her body, and lilies grew in the moss at the base of the rock.
Carved in stone were those words, Death’s ultimate message:
Vita mutatur, non tollitur.
Life is changed, not taken away.
It appeared to me now, the card and the message, reminding me that I was in the midst of my own inevitable change. That even as one life died, another was just beginning.
I’d asked Sebastian for an extension on my contract—enough time to save my friends and deal with the threats facing us.
Fighting, learning to grow and strengthen my magic, training, backing up my rebels—all of those things were important. But if I was truly the Silversbane heir—truly the witch of prophecy—then I needed to learn how to lead. How to inspire. How to save and protect the witches I loved as well as the witches I’d never even met.
I needed to find a way to bring us all together—witches and supernaturals alike—uniting us against the mounting threats facing our communities.
Was I ready for all that?
For so long, I’d lived in the shadows, hiding my witchcraft, denying my magical heritage, pretending to be anything but who I really was. Eventually destiny caught up with me. And now I was doing my best to keep up with it.
Was I even worthy of the Silversbane legacy?
I closed my eyes, pressing the Death card to my chest. I wanted so, so badly to talk to Liam. This was exactly the kind of philosophical dilemma he loved to talk about, and his words of wisdom had never failed to open my eyes to new perspectives, new possibilities.
I was still so angry with him. But I also needed him. Wanted him. Wanted his companionship, his hopelessly confusing explanations about the natural order, his jokes, his sweet kisses.
Yet he’d betrayed me. How could I reconcile the two? How could I hate a man I still cared so deeply for?
I couldn’t. That was the answer. I couldn’t hate Liam any more than I could deny I was Silversbane.
Maybe that was part of what I needed to accept, too. That people made mistakes. That even Death made mistakes.
Oh, Liam. Where are you?
Ever since he’d confessed to me about his deal with Sebastian, I’d assumed that was the betrayal I’d dreamed about, the one the Three of Swords card had warned about in Sophie’s book of shadows. But sitting here now, holding the Death card and reflecting on all the things Deirdre had shared today, I wasn’t so sure anymore.
My heart felt like it’d been run through with so many swords. Liam’s confessions, Ronan’s deal that would forever keep us apart, my own mother trying to drown me. In light of the last one, how could I hold any anger toward Liam? He’d never meant for me to die. He’d never even meant to hurt me. And though it was the ultimate outcome, sending my soul to Sebastian had never been his intention—he’d honestly thought I’d be honored to become Death, just as he was. And at that time, he wasn’t even human—not in the way I thought of him now.
My own mother had tried to drown me and my sisters. Her babies. And she likely killed my father, too.
“Things are not always what they seem,” came a voice in my mind, warm and bubbly and belonging only to one person: my Sophie. She’d said those very words to me in my magic realm, right after I’d read about the Three of Swords in her book of shadows.
I didn’t dare open my eyes, didn’t dare break the vision.
“Do you think I should forgive him?” I asked.
“Liam? I think you already have.”
I shook my head, still resisting the idea. Could forgiveness really come that easily? Should it?
“Open your eyes, girl,” she said, and I even though I didn’t want to lose her, I did as she asked. Sophie never led me astray.
The Death card came back into view, but when I looked up, I was no longer on the couch in Elena’s living room, wrapped up in a blanket dotted with lighthouses. Instead, I found myself sitting on a carpet of velvety green grass in a meadow I’d missed for far too long.
My realm. The source of my magic. A place I hadn’t seen since Jonathan had taken me hostage.
“You shouldn’t be here,” a deep voice bellowed. “It isn’t safe.”
“Liam?” I looked up and met his gaze, startled at the force of what I saw there. Happiness. Longing. Sorrow. Regret. Love. All of it flickering through his ancient blue eyes, completely disarming me.
He was back in his shadow form, an uncanny reminder of the angel of Death in the Tarot card, but he was still Liam. I saw the humanity in his eyes—a depth and nuance that wasn’t there when I’d first met him in this form. I wondered if he’d always carry Liam with him. Always carry our time together.
He sat down in the grass next to me, not too close. He was giving me space. Testing the waters.
“I haven’t captured Jonathan yet,” he said. “He’s eluded me at every turn. If he attacked you here, I…” He trailed off, gazing out across the meadow, no longer looking at me.
“You’re… still tracking him?” I wasn’t sure why that surprised me, but it did.
“I’ve been hunting him since I returned from burning your scroll at the Great Hall of Records, Gray. This is your realm, and Sebastian has granted you temporary freedom. You shouldn’t be kept away by the threats of a madman, or by anyone—or anything—else.”
“I agree, but you didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to. I want to.”
We sat in companionable silence, the breeze caressing my skin. After my day at the beach, this felt warm and pleasurable, like the very end of summer when it’s no longer hot and humid, but before the air turns chilly. The scents of lavender and lilacs filled the air, as sweet and clean as I remembered.
“I miss it,” I said. “Being here. Back before I knew about… well, anything, really.”
“That’s the thing about knowledge,” he said. “Once you know a thing, you can’t unknow it. Unless, of course…”
He trailed off, and I knew he was thinking of Darius. The memory eaters.
I ran my hand over the grass beside me, the soft blades tickling my palm. “Well, here’s something I now know. I have three sisters. Also, I’m the witch of prophecy. And my mother tried to murder us when we were babies.”
Liam didn’t say anything.
“I suppose you already knew all that,” I said.
He nodded. I wasn’t surprised, but it still stung. He’d kept so much from me. Not just as Death, but as Liam. As my friend. As a man I was starting to love. He was still keeping things from me. Things about my future. About all the possibilities. Things about my past.
But maybe that was part of what it meant to love someone, too—shielding them from the painful truths. It wasn’t always the best policy, but sometimes, you carried their pain so they wouldn’t have to.
My heart hurt. Being this close to him… I wanted him back in my life. Back in my world. But that could never happen now. He’d failed to pass on the Death mantle to me. Now, that was his eternal calling. His prison.
“Will you seek them?” he asked.
“I alrea
dy know about Haley,” I said. “But as for the others… How could I not? We’re supposed to band together and unify the covens.” I drew my knees up to my chest. “I don’t know what that means. I don’t know what that would look like. I don’t even know where to start.”
“You’ve already begun, little witch.” Liam smiled, his eyes shining with pride. “You’ve managed to get the upper hand with the Prince of Hell. I’d say that’s a very good start.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. Sebastian had given me an extension, but he could call it back whenever he felt like it. For all intents and purposes, I was living on borrowed time, and a loan from the Prince of hell came with the highest interest rates around.
“I need to ask you something,” I said. “The woman whose soul you were supposed to bring Sebastian—the one who’d bailed on her contract. It was my mother, wasn’t it?”
Liam met my eyes again, his smile fading. If he was uncomfortable with this line of questioning, though, he didn’t show it, and I knew that whatever he said next would be the truth. I couldn’t explain why, but in that moment, it felt like we’d come to a new understanding.
Liam wouldn’t lie to me about this. I knew it in my bones.
“It was,” he finally said. “She made a deal with him many years ago, but when it came time to collect, she vanished.”
“My grandmother says she’s still alive. A fugitive from hell.”
“Oh, Trinity is very much alive. Undetectable, though I’m fairly certain she’s still on the material plane. It’s likely she has powerful allies protecting her.”
“Powerful allies, like who? Who could be that powerful—or that stupid—to harbor a fugitive of hell?”
“If we knew, I’m certain Sebastian would’ve found her by now. There are many factions, Gray. Many groups and subgroups and beings who believe things should be different, and any one of those groups may have been sympathetic to your mother’s cause, especially if they believed she could eventually connect them with the Silversbane heirs.”
“She supposedly thinks we’re dead.”
“Yes. Let’s hope it stays that way.” On that ominous note, Liam rose from the grass, offering a hand to help me up. I took it, standing up and tilting my face up to meet his gaze once more.
“Where will you go after this?” I asked.
“I have been ordered to resume my duties, as I knew I must.” The finality in his words pressed down on me like a physical weight, tightening my chest, making it difficult to breathe.
“Will I see you again?” I asked, fighting to keep the tremor from my voice.
“This is not goodbye for us, Gray. I assure you. But it may be some time before we see each other again.”
“But… I don’t understand. Can’t you visit as Liam? Like you used to?”
“Not as Liam, I’m afraid. If I return to you on the material plane at all, it shall be in my raven form.” He cupped my cheeks, his black gloves like spider webs against my skin. “Pray that I do not return, for if you see my raven by your side, know that I am there only to escort the departed soul of someone you love.”
“I don’t want to go back without you,” I breathed, my eyes falling closed over tears. I was losing him all over again. “I’m not done being mad at you yet. And I’m not done forgiving you.”
“Your words have given me more hope than you can imagine.”
“Then why do I feel like this is goodbye? Why does it feel like… like you’re dying?”
“Vita mutatur, non tollitur.” He lowered his mouth to mine, pressing a soft kiss to my lips that unleashed a shower of sparks between us.
“Please don’t go,” I whispered when he pulled away.
“I must.” He stroked my cheeks, a few remaining sparks still lingering. “Though I didn’t understand it at the time, this was always the only possible outcome for me, Gray. But your story has many, many volumes before you reach your final outcome, and most of them have not yet been written.”
I nodded, and he released my face, the bright blue of his eyes fading as I slowly drifted back to consciousness.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on Elena’s couch, still clutching the Tarot card to my chest.
This one wasn’t the Death card, though.
It was the Star. A card of healing and renewal.
A card of hope.
Twenty-Six
Emilio
If ever there was a sight for sore eyes, it was her.
The moment I walked in the door and spotted her on Elena’s couch, curled up with her new Tarot cards and a mug of tea, her legs wrapped in a blanket, my heart nearly stopped.
She was beautiful. She was here. She was whole.
Ever since she’d been taken from us at the safe house, I’d dreamed of this moment. Having her back. Safe. She’d been in Raven’s Cape for days, back in my care, but I still couldn’t get used to it.
And after today, when I saw the carnage on the beach and thought she’d been hurt…
I clenched my fists, wishing I could have torn those hunters apart myself. It was a wonder I let the ones we’d captured live.
If we hadn’t needed their intel, I don’t think I would have.
Gray sipped her tea, thumbing to a new card in her deck. She hadn’t heard me yet, and I took a minute to watch her, to soak it all in, memorizing the image.
I could come home to this every night for a thousand years and never get tired of it…
When she finally sensed my presence and turned her face toward me, a smile stretched across her lips, lighting me up from the inside.
“Emilio,” she breathed. She set down her cards and mug, fighting her way out of the lighthouse blanket that’d tangled around her legs.
“Don’t get up. I’ll come to you.” I took off my coat and my holster, then joined her on the couch, pulling her legs into my lap. She snuggled in closer, tucking her head beneath my chin. Her hair tickled my neck, and I breathed in her sweet scent, wrapping my arms around her, holding her close.
If I had my way, I’d never let her go.
“Tell me the update,” she said.
“Do I have to? I’d much rather pretend we’re here on vacation, taking a break from a long day of… well, whatever it is people do on vacation.”
“That sounds nice,” she said dreamily, letting us both live in the fantasy a little longer. I pressed my lips to the top of her head, kissing her hair.
She sighed contentedly, but despite her outward calmness, I felt the anxiety spike in her energy. She needed to know where we were at with the hunters.
Blowing out a breath, I said, “Once they came to, we brought the three Deirdre’d knocked out in for questioning.”
“Any sign of the prison?”
“Jael picked up the signature of fae spellwork near the sight, but he said it was an inactive spell, already fading. There were no signs of any cave entrances or activity in the area. No footprints, no litter, no disturbed plant life. None of the things we usually see when we’ve got activity in an area near the beach. Ronan and Darius are still combing the shoreline, looking to see if we missed anything.”
She arched an eyebrow. “So Ronan let Darius out on good behavior?”
“He seems to have mellowed out a bit since your… encounter.”
She lowered her eyes, her cheeks darkening. The scent of her desire drifted on the air, threatening to send me into a frenzy. God, she was beautiful.
“Did the hunters give you anything to go on?” she asked, shifting so she could look up at me. The movement of her legs made my cock stand up and take notice.
Not a good time, bud.
“Not… especially.” I shifted, trying to steer my wayward thoughts back to the topic at hand. The case, not the gorgeous witch sitting in my lap. “Lansky and I did the good cop, bad cop routine for hours, but all we managed to learn was that Jonathan has gone missing, and no one knows what the hell they’re supposed to do now.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s still trapp
ed in my realm,” she said. “I… connected with Liam earlier, and he said he’s been tracking him there, trying to make sure he doesn’t get out. Even if he does, though, I doubt his men would even recognize him anymore.” She shuddered against me, undoubtedly remembering her encounters with the deformed creature formerly known as Jonathan in the Shadowrealm.
I ran my hand down her back, calming her.
“It’s hard to differentiate fact from fiction with these assholes,” I said, “but from what we’ve gathered so far, it sounds like there’s a separate faction of hunters that splintered off from Jonathan’s group, and they’re working more closely with the Darkwinter fae.”
“So, Jonathan wasn’t working with fae?”
“He may have been, but for whatever reason, others have moved in on his territory. Like I said, the guys are pretty tight-lipped, and half of what they’re feeding us is probably bullshit, but it’s starting to sound more like a coup.”
“The ones you picked up from the beach—those were definitely Jonathan’s guys?”
“Yes. They had brands on their arms that matched the ones Darius saw on the hunters who attacked him in the hotel room, as well as the markings we found on—”
“Sophie and the other witches.” She shuddered again.
“We still don’t know what the markings mean, if anything.”
“Probably some kind of sigil magic. Jonathan was so desperate, trying any combination of magic he could get his hands on, cherry-picking his way across all kinds of traditions and lore.”
“What worries me is that this other group may have better resources. More capabilities.” I pulled the blanket up around her shoulder, holding her close again. “It happens in the business world all the time. The little fish invents something useful, but doesn’t quite know how to manage or market it. Big fish comes in and gobbles up the company, expanding on it, branching out. Taking it global.”
We’d talked a little bit after dinner the other night about the situation in the Bay, and our theories about the wider implications of Darkwinter’s involvement and the Council’s treachery. We still hadn’t put together the whole story, but we were getting closer, piece by painstaking piece. And the picture all these clues were starting to paint did not look good.