It had been a century since she had escaped Faery. And nearly as long since they’d stolen her child from her. The descent into forbidden magics had never been her intended path. And with each ritual, she used to extend her life, the less effective it had been. She’d killed more humans than she could count. She remembered the first but not her name, and beyond that, the faces and places blurred together. But not her—she was different than the rest. The hearts of maidens were most potent, as their life potential could extend her the longest. The only thing better was the blood of the fae or their half-breed mortal children, like Grace Thornton.
Isobel stepped out from the pew and walked with a purposeful stride toward the rear of the chapel, to the double doors out onto the churchyard. Mrs. Morgan rose up to follow her, half jogging to keep up with Isobel.
“You are certain this will work? What if we’re seen?” Mrs. Morgan’s voice wobbled. She’d always been a doubter, even from the first moment she met her.
When she killed, they often pleaded for their lives. Their excuses were all the same. But Grace begged not on her behalf but on that of her son, Edward cursed by a wolf’s bite, and her small fae abilities were keeping them in check. It had been too long since Isobel’s last kill, and her hunger had been too great for mercy. But after the deed was done, curiosity got the better of her, and she went in search of the boy. Edward was a sweet, bright-eyed child with a splash of freckles on his upturned nose. She sensed the wolf curse in him. Years of blood magic had given her abilities she would have only dreamed of before. Perhaps out of guilt or maybe out of pity, she had revealed herself to his nanny, Mrs. Morgan, a hedge witch of small skill. And she taught her a remedy which could contain the curse. She promised to stay only until the next moon, to be sure it worked...
The sun was setting behind the tops of the trees, the sky a blood red fading into orange. At this time of day, her powers were at their peak. If what she attempted to do would be successful, it would have to be now. They’d delayed long enough as it was to not arouse suspicion. Around the back of the chapel was a cellar. Isobel threw open the doors. A cold wind blew from within, and though they did not keep the bodies long here, the air still had a slight stench of death in it.
Mrs. Morgan choked back a sob, and Mrs. Rosewood grasped for her hand and squeezed it.
“We’ve prepared for this. Do not doubt now.”
Mrs. Morgan nodded her head, and they descended into the dark together. All these years, she had stayed by his side. The boy whose mother she had killed, at first out of guilt. But soon, her purposes changed to revenge. It wasn’t long before she realized why fate had brought her here to Thornwood, to this wolf cursed boy. To Raethorn or Raymond Horn or Ethan Ray or Ray Thorn or the decades of aliases he used. He changed his face and his name as it suited him, but she always recognized him. She knew him at a glance though he never saw her. She had changed from the young woman in the Thorn King’s court. She thought she could trust him, but he had betrayed her like all the rest. How else could they have found her? How else could they have stolen her daughter from her? She waited and watched for any sign for the day to come when he would recognize her at last, and she would discover her daughter’s location. But the day never came.
Isobel assumed the role of Edward and Lydia’s estranged aunt, and no one questioned the glamour. And for a time, she was happy watching Lydia and Edward grow. It filled the void left behind by her daughter’s disappearance. And now, when she was so close to setting everything right, she couldn’t leave Edward this way. Perhaps not her true son, but as close as one.
Edward’s bloodless body lay on the table. Eyes closed as if he were merely sleeping. His face was peaceful, but the deep gashes on his skin told another tale. Mrs. Morgan stood over his body, her face stony, but her shoulders shook from hardly suppressed tears. She reached out as if to caress his cold skin and then pulled back.
“We are fortunate I was able to recover the hearts.” At least these girl’s deaths would not be in vain. Though they wouldn’t be enough. She’d never reanimated a corpse before, and there was the chance it could all go horribly wrong. But for Grace’s sake, she had to try.
She placed the hearts on his head, his stomach, and over the center of his chest. Meanwhile, Mrs. Morgan drew a circle in chalk upon the floor and set out white candles at the cardinal points. Once that was done, they each clasped hands over his body. Mrs. Morgan’s hands were slick with sweat; her magic was minuscule compared to someone like Catherine. It came from a distant fae relative generations back. But what she needed was the link to the source of all magic, the Great Tree, and for that purpose alone, she would be a sufficient conduit.
They sang the incantation together, their voices humming the energy of the earth coursing through them. Not being of the blood herself, Isobel could only grasp the barest glimpse of the tree, a bright flash in the corner of her eye. The magic burned in Mrs. Morgan feared coming to Isobel, but she grasped it, wrapping it in tendrils of her own magic, hard cultivated after years. Life and death were a delicate balance, and while the tree represented life, so did she represent death. Edward’s soul, which she had tethered to the earthly realm on the night of the attack, hovered next to them, staring down at his own ruined body.
Mrs. Morgan gasped as she looked at him. She tried to pull away, but Isobel dug her nails in her arm to stop her from doing so.The power reared in her like a bucking horse, but it was hers to tame, to control. She pulled, tugging into herself and then directing it through the first heart, it burned it up to nothing but ash, then the second, blackened and curled before it too was nothing but ash on the wind, and then the third. Edward’s soul was drawn to his body, dragged in as the final heart began to beat wildly. His soul disappeared into his body, and the memories of the bodies’ pain thrummed through her. Mrs. Morgan cried out, her head thrown back.
The first time with the forbidden magics was always the most painful. But after nearly a century, Isobel had almost become numb to it. The final heart burst apart, chunks of flesh hit their faces and over Edward’s naked body.
Mrs. Morgan tore her hands away at last. Falling onto the ground in a whimpering heap. Isobel kept her legs from buckling beneath her by bracing herself on the table. The air smelt of metal and blood, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Was it enough? Had she really done it? Her skull throbbed, and her hands ached. Mrs. Morgan continued to sniffle on the ground. The seconds seemed to stretch out for an eternity.
And then Edward’s finger wiggled. And then his leg twitched. Color returned to his pale skin, and the wounds across his body knit themselves back together. Then Edward opened his eyes. They darted, bewildered, around the room.
“Where am I?” he asked, trying to sit, but she pushed him to lay back down.
He would be weak for some time, and he would need to learn to hunt, to extend his life by sacrificing others. “Welcome back, Edward.” She said, brushing the hair away from his face.
He blinked into the light like a newborn lamb, and perhaps he was a bit like one.
“It worked,” Mrs. Morgan gasped.
“Who are you?” Edward asked, slowly looking between the two of them.
Mrs. Morgan stared wide-eyed at Isobel. This was an unexpected complication. “Why can he not remember me?” she asked.
She’d never brought someone back from the dead before, and there was no easy explanation. Not that it mattered, Edward had one job to do.
“It’s better this way. We’ve held the funeral anyway. It’s not as if he could resume his old life.”
“Is that why you made me forge the documents of his will to give it all to Catherine?”
“Did I die?” he asked with a child-like innocence.
“Hush, don’t worry.” Isobel patted his face.
“Time is running out. You said you would do anything necessary to protect him. I need you to ensure Catherine stays here in Thornwood. I will find a way to cure him, and when we return, we will close the gateway for good.”
Mrs. Morgan drew her lips into a line until they nearly disappeared. It was too late for second thoughts. She would find a way to bring back his memories, and barring that, she would help to keep him alive.No matter what, she would have her revenge, and she would get her daughter back.
