Rhi stepped in before I could embarrass myself further. “We’ve started in the kitchen with some basic exploration of intention and simple spellwork. So far, we’ve determined that kitchen witchery is unlikely to be her specialty.”
“I would suggest an affinity study,” Davina said.
“Already?” Rhi asked, raising her eyebrows. “She’s just barely started!”
“These are unique circumstances, Rhiannon. She isn’t a child. She has already been targeted. It is crucial she understand her abilities as soon as possible, especially now that we know the Darkness has not been contained the way we had hoped.”
“Is anyone going to tell me what an affinity study is?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended in my mounting fear and frustration. Why did they insist I come along to this meeting if they were going to insist on talking about me as though I wasn’t even there?
My mother turned to me. “It’s a way to understand how your magic naturally works. Every witch has her preferred medium, if you will. Rhi’s a kitchen witch, and Asteria was a green witch. It doesn’t mean they can only work magic in those ways, but it doesmean that their magic will flow most powerfully and naturally in that setting. It’s a bit complicated, but I promise I’ll explain it better when we get home.”
“What kind of w—” I began, too overcome with curiosity not to blurt out the first question I could think of, which was, of course, what kind of witch my mother was. But Ostara seemed to have run out of patience for interruptions.
“To the best of our knowledge, the Darkness has gone to ground again, temporarily banished but by no means gone. It went to great lengths to claim you, Wren. Though your means of defending yourself were truly impressive, I do not believe you have deterred the Darkness permanently. We must be prepared for whatever it may try next, and our best hope for that is to understand why it wants you in the first place. We must understand your magic.”
The fear I’d successfully kept at bay over the past few days came flooding back through me. I hadn’t truly understood what had happened that night on the beach, but I’d hoped, foolishly, I suppose, that I’d somehow managed to put an end to something.
Now, as I stared around the room of solemn, fearful faces staring back at me, I realized that had been a very naive assumption. The only thing that had ended on the beach that night had been any lingering illusions of safety.
The rest of it—the Darkness and its machinations—was only just beginning.
5
We rode home from the Manor in complete silence.
I preferred it this way. Not because I didn’t have a million questions—I absolutely did—but because I wasn’t ready to handle the answers to any of those questions. I needed time to think. I needed time to absorb the very frightening fact that had drawn us to the Manor in the first place.
The Darkness was not contained. The Darkness was still out there, and it still wanted me.
I don’t know what expression was on my face as I spiraled down through these thoughts, but no one felt the need to press me with questions when we got home. My mom smiled tightly at me, her eyes sparkling with repressed pain and worry, and asked if I wanted to talk. When I told her no, that I needed time to think, she looked almost relieved. Even Persi was subdued as we all trudged into the cottage to stew quietly in our own spaces. Rhi retreated to the kitchen, Persi to her bedroom, and my mom out into the garden. And I went up to my little room, where I found Freya perched expectantly on the end of my bed, like she was waiting for me.
“Hi,” I croaked when I saw her.
She cocked her head to one side and then scooted over to make room for me. The invitation unhinged me, dissolved my tenuous grasp on my self-control, and I fell onto my bed, bursting into tears. Freya curled up against me, tucking her head under my chin, and purred softly until I’d cried myself out. She didn’t huff or try to wriggle away from me when I pulled her closer to me. I felt her purrs slow to match my breathing as I calmed down, felt her rub her head against my jaw in slow, soothing circles. Gradually, my body relaxed, and the sobs shivered rather than wracked through me, and then stopped altogether, leaving me feeling like an overcooked noodle. Soon, I fell asleep and didn’t wake until the next morning, when the light was pale and the shadows still deep, like they were clinging to bits of the night as it slipped away with the dawn. I could still feel Freya’s warm body pressed up against me. I pushed up onto one arm and found her looking intently at me, as though to say, “Well? Better?”
“Thanks,” I whispered to her. “I really needed to get that out, and I didn’t want to do it in front of them.”
Freya huffed a little breath and bumped her nose against my cheekbone.
“Yeah, I’m done being dramatic,” I told her. “Your tolerance was much appreciated.”
She slunk out from under my arm and settled into a little loaf, looking at me expectantly. Apparently, she felt she was entitled to an explanation.
“I’m just scared,” I said. “I don’t know how to protect myself or anyone else. And I think we’re going to need protection. The Gray Man isn’t trapped, and he isn’t gone.”
Freya narrowed her eyes and let out a hiss.
“My thoughts exactly.”
Freya sat up on her haunches and looked at me imperiously. Then she walked across the bed and up onto my bedside table.She placed a paw lightly on the stack of books and then looked at me pointedly as she batted the book on the top of the pile right onto the bed. I stared first at the book and then at Freya, who looked calmly back.
“Were you always this helpful, and I just didn’t notice?” I whispered.
She sniffed impatiently and began to groom herself.
“Right. Well, thanks. And I think you’re right. Whining won’t help. I need to start learning.” Strange that I needed a cat to call me on my bullshit, but it wasn’t the strangest thing that had happened to me in the last few days, so I guess I could take it in my stride. But regardless of whether it was really Freya guiding me or not, I couldn’t afford to be self-indulgent anymore. I’d given myself one night of fear and doubt and self-pity. Time to pull it together, or I might as well have just invited the Darkness to swallow me up because, at this moment, I was no more than a sitting duck.
I took a very long, very hot shower, and by the time I’d gotten dressed and brushed my hair, I was starting to feel halfway human. As I gathered up my books to head downstairs, I thought I heard a car pulling away from the house. I looked out the window and saw my mom driving down the road into town. I glanced at my phone to check the time and saw she had texted me.
