Sarah lunged at the barrier of the circle again, making all of us jump.
“You’re still here because you let someone else manipulate you,” I said.
“Someone else? Who?” Persi asked.
“Veronica Meyers,” I said. “She found Sarah after the Litha Pageant. She bargained with her. If Sarah could unlock the mystery of the Source, they would sacrifice a member of their coven to restore her to a body. She could live again, and fulfill what she calls her destiny—to be the pentamaleficus joined to the Darkness in unbridled power.”
Sarah raised her chin defiantly. “As I shall be.”
“No, you won’t. Veronica exploited you the same way the Darkness did. She understood you, because she is just like you—she wants what you want. Do you really believe she would share that power with you if you laid it at her feet? She counted on you to be too desperate to pass up her offer, and so you were. And so you’ve been here ever since, toiling away for another master who will cast you off at the first opportunity.”
“The Kildare witch is not my master! She is a means to an end!” Sarah shrieked.
“No,youare the means, Sarah. You’ve been here ever since, making desperate attempts to strip power from this place. And now you’ve all but destroyed it.”
For the first time, I saw real fear cross Sarah’s face. “It is not destroyed,” she said.
“Not yet, but it is damn close,” Jess chimed in. “Because of this.” And she held up the Vesper grimoire. She must have grabbed it when we were released from Sarah’s memories. It now lay in her hands, its pages open. “Seeing your memories has filled in the gaps. I understand now what’s happened.”
Sarah hardly seemed to hear her. She was staring with ravenous greed at the grimoire, like a predator tracking prey.
“The spell you used that night all those centuries ago was a risk. You did not understand the nature of the Source any better than the Darkness did; and despite all your years of experience as a witch, you made the same mistake that a group of foolish young Durupinen would make centuries later, when they tried to strip the power of a Gateway for their own. They survived because I intervened before it was too late. But you were not so lucky, Sarah. No one arrived in time to save you, only to clean up your mess as best they could. But damage was done that night that couldn’t be undone. The Source itself was weakened—not irreparably, but enough that, years later, when another misguided witch of your bloodline tried to call you back, it began to crumble.”
Everyone in the room was listening to Jess now, mesmerized at these revelations.
“I suspected it was your return that destabilized the Gateway further, and now it’s clear that I was right,” Jess went on. “No spirit should be able to return to the world of the living once she has Crossed. It should be impossible, but here you are. It was a destructive act, your return. It goes against the natural order of things. You took a small hole and forced it wider. You were unknowingly destroying the very thing you claim to revere.”
Sarah’s expression was shifting now from anger to disbelief. Fear was skittering across her features, as each word Jess spoke fell terribly into place. I picked up the thread.
“And then, when all your efforts had failed, and your last desperate attempt to hijack Bernadette’s body had been thwarted, Veronica convinced you to help her. But in your determination to deliver on your promise to her, you’ve done more damage still. This Gateway is crumbling. Any further attempt you make to access its power could be the attempt that destroys it forever. And just imagine how much that would anger your master. Cut off from the possibility of such limitless power… because of you.”
At last, it seemed, we had found the words that could pierce through Sarah’s delusion. It was like watching a house of cards collapse behind her eyes, to be replaced with a spark of utter terror.
“It’s not true,” she whispered. “It’s not true. I can still fix it. I can still?—”
“Sarah. Enough.”
The voice was soft, and at first I did not recognize it. All I knew was that it hadn’t come from any of the women grouped around me. Only by following Sarah’s startled stare did we realize who spoke.
Bernadette stood in the entrance to the cavern, her form slightly shimmering, a dull glow lighting her up from within, so that she shone without casting any light around her. She looked like a dream made real in her simple white nightgown, her hair billowing around her, caught in a breeze no living person could feel. Her face, for the first time since I met her, looked serene and untroubled. The visions and doubts that had tortured her in life had fallen away in death. She was free.
Free, but not free. She was still here. Trapped, as long as the Gateway was compromised.
I could hear a dry sobbing sound, and I knew it was Persi. I tore my eyes from Bernadette long enough to see that my mother had moved in close to Persi, supporting her, yes, but also preventing her from running forward. Bernadette was not here for Persi. She had eyes only for Sarah, and her gaze, as it locked on its target, was full of understanding and sorrow.
Sarah’s face spasmed with shock at the sight of Bernadette’s ghost, and she had to fight to get it under control. Even when she resumed her disdainful manner, though, her voice betrayed her, trembling with suppressed emotions.
“Bernadette. I wondered if you would survive our time together. I see you succumbed to weakness in the end.”
“Only a witch as power-hungry as you would consider death a weakness, Sarah. I suppose that’s why you’ve fought so hard against it since I brought you back. That should have been my first warning when I made contact with you. But I was too sure of my own motives to question yours, not when we connected so well. I understand that connection is not what I thought it was. It was only your manipulation.”
“You are a fool, Bernadette Claire. We could have had power beyond comprehension—power beyond reckoning.”
“No. You knew from the moment you took over my body that I would only be a temporary vessel. Your promises to me were as empty as the Darkness’ promises to you.”
Sarah had gone so still that she seemed, for a moment, like one of Bernadette’s own renderings—a painting made manifest. She and Bernadette were locked into each other with such intensity that they felt like the only real things in the room, the rest of us faded to the insubstantial equivalent of ghosts.
Bernadette broke the silence. She took one deliberate step forward. “I have seen into your heart, Sarah Claire, because you let me in. I know you better than you know yourself. I see into it now.” She held out a hand. “Free yourself, my blood sister. Break his hold on you. Show the courage you could not show in life. Choose to begin healing the damage you’ve wrought.”
