“Who was her magister?” Corbin asked.
“A witch named Herbert, I believe.”
I glanced at Corbin. He’d guessed right.Herbert Missort – Robert Smithers.
If only it mattered.
My head pounded. I didn’t want to know any more. I didn’t want to hear how my mother tried to murder me.
“Then what happened?” Corbin asked.
“The skies darkened. Voices travelled on the wind, the whispers of the restless dead rising, preparing to ride. We chanted together, channelling our power into Aline. She declared her intentions to the four corners and the five elements. Her magister charged her powers in the usual way. She raised the knife. She plunged it into your heart.”
My mind whirled even as I struggled to hold down my stomach. What had my mother done to me? Had I survived by accident, by chance, or by design? Did I have some secret twin sister who she killed off to save me? Had she somehow sacrificed herself so that I could live?
Was I grasping at straws, hoping for some explanation that could excuse what she did? But how could there ever be an excuse?
I gripped Corbin’s knee. The room spun. I leaned forward, knowing I was only moments from passing out.I wish we’d never come here. I wish I’d never come to Briarwood and found out what I am, that this horror is part of my heritage. More than anything, I wish I could speak to my mother and demand answers.
“How is that possible?” Corbin demanded. “Maeve is here, very much alive.”
Isadora shook her head, still staring at the wall. “I don’t know, but I saw it. I saw the blood spurt from the wound and the life drain from the child’s eyes. I have seen that image in my nightmares ever since. Aline slumped forward as her body filled with magic, and the earth rumbled and split open, but we held firm and the heavens parted and the sky cleared, and the wind and rumbling stopped just as the light in her spirit went out. She died in that moment – releasing the power she had obtained – and the voices on the wind ceased their tortured howls.”
I gasped for breath as my heart pounded against my chest, reminding me that it may be broken but it was still part of my body. “There must be another way.”
Isadora spoke, her voice louder. It took me a moment to realise she had moved beside me. “If it is as you say, and the fae are in the underworld, then it’s already too late. If Briarwood wishes to make a last stand in a pointless display of futile magic, then we will stand with you. But I must see a solid plan before I place my coven at risk.”
A child. She means she needs to see the child we plan to kill.
My stomach lurched, my throat burned. With a gasp, I threw up across the red rug, my stomach heaving as it emptied itself of my lunch. Tears streamed down my face. Corbin’s hand swirling on my shoulder did nothing to relieve the horror or humiliation.
Isadora made an annoyed clicking noise with her throat. She went over to her desk and pushed an intercom button. “Katie, bring in the cleaning trolley. You’ll need gloves, too, for the broken glass. Another guest of mine has demonstrated poor self-control.”
Corbin held back my hair as I spat the remnants of bile on the carpet. “What’s your duty?” I gasped out.
“Pardon?” Isadora couldn’t keep her disgust out of her voice. She had joined a ritual to murder a child and she was disgusted byme?Fuck her.
“The duty of the Soho coven. If we guard the gateway, then what are you responsible for?” I couldn’t resist adding, “I hope it’s philosophy education for future witches.”
“Secrets. We are responsible for secrets.”
“I don’t understand.”
She sighed. “Of course you don’t, American. Follow me.”
Corbin helped me to my feet. I stepped around the puddle of puke just as the woman who answered the door bustled inside, dragging a beautiful silver trolley stacked with cleaning supplies. She got to her knees on the carpet, swinging her ass in the air as she dabbed at the stain.
We followed Isadora out into the hall. She pulled a keychain from her belt and opened the door immediately opposite. I peered around her, fresh bile rising in my throat as I took in the room beyond.
It was a bedroom decorated completely in black and white. Black walls, white wainscoting. White-painted metal bed frame covered in black silk sheets. But what had me reeling was the two figures on top of the bed.
A naked man sprawled on his back across the bed, his hands gripping the thighs of a woman as she rode him in a languid, gentle rhythm. Her ample curves spilt out of a white corset and garters, and white lace gloves pulled up past her elbows. Her gloved hands danced sensuously over his neck, not touching his skin but waving just above it. Each time she lifted her body, she pulled her fingers back, and the man wheezed as if he struggled to breathe.
She’s an air witch,I realized with a start, fresh bile rising in my throat.She’s using her power to suck away his breath with each thrust, emptying his lungs so…so…
Isadora slammed the door shut. I grabbed Corbin, anchoring myself against his unshakeable frame. I wasn’t a prude, but something about seeing that witch stealing that man’s breath made my already empty stomach clench and cramp.
“Isn’t that…illegal?” I breathed, remembering snatches of breakfast conversation with the Briarwood lawyer Emily, who explained that in Britain a person couldn’t consent to bodily harm through sexual practices.
