CHAPTER FOUR
MAEVE
After an uneventful flight filled with tiny packets of pretzels and an ill-conceived attempt to join the mile high club (Arthur’s bulk made manoeuvring around him in the tiny bathroom possible only for a dextrous pint-sized acrobat, of which I wasnot), we touched down at Heathrow without incident. Groggy-eyed, I followed Arthur through customs and out into the parking lot, where his ridiculous car still waited for us.
I sank into the uncomfortable seat, all the fears and responsibilities of the coven rushing back to me. America had felt like another world. Now that I was back in England, I remembered what had distracted me from Kelly and my own mourning in the first place. The fae, my father, my mother’s painting, Connor’s baptism, the five guys and everything we’d done together, learning about my own magic.
Now it was all in jeopardy once again if we couldn’t get there in time.
Arthur turned the key and glanced at the time on his phone. “If we’re hurry, we might just make it. You want some music?” he asked.
“Sure.” It would make the trip go faster, and maybe blast out the maelstrom of awful thoughts swirling around in my head.
Arthur put on some band called Iron Maiden. I remembered he’d worn their t-shirt a couple of times. Their galloping riffs and soaring vocals did the trick. I got caught up in the stories of epic battles and things lurking in the darkness. My heart pounded against my chest. Was I riding into a battle of my own right now? What hope did I have against the darkness?
You have the guys. You have the magic. And you have a sensible head on your shoulders. That’s going to have to be enough.
I barely registered when we turned off the M1, heading along the homeward stretch toward Briarwood House.
Arthur’s phone buzzed. He paused the Discman and hit the speaker button. “Hey Corbin, we’re an hour away.”
“Good. We’re here at the cathedral in Crooks Worthy. We came early so we could hide some protective charms around the perimeter. We haven’t seen anything suspicious yet. Come straight here when you can. I’ve got your sword and some weapons and charms for Maeve.”
“How’s Jane doing?” I whispered.
“As well as can be expected, given that she thought her baby was safe and now he’s in Daigh’s sights again.”
“But how can Daigh even do this?”
“Blake won’t tell us,” Corbin growled. “He’s been lying to us, but he swears we’ll get the whole story as soon as you’re here. He seems scared.”
“Heshouldbe scared.” Arthur yanked the wheel a little harder than needed. “I’m going to kill him.”
“You’re not. For all his faults, Blake’s on our side,” I reminded them both, but my stomach flipped again. What if I was wrong? What if Blake really was still working for Daigh? What if his job was to bring us to this church?
No.I trusted Blake. And more importantly, I trusted myself and my judgement of him. That was what leaders did. I read that in a Sheryl Sandberg article.
“It doesn’t matter either way,” Corbin was saying. “We’re walking into a trap. I just hope we’re strong enough to hold them back. But we can’t just run away from this, right?”
I realised Corbin was askingme. He was trying to defer to me as the leader.
“Right,” I said. “We can’t let them take Connor again or hurt anyone in the village. Hold on, we’ll see you soon.”
Arthur put his foot to the floor, but the old car wouldn’t go much faster. It got the speed wobbles as we bounced down the road and Arthur had to ease off again. I watched the time on his phone click through the minutes too fast.
We’ll never make it.
But somehow we did. We made it into Crookshollow without the car falling apart. We zoomed down the high street, zipping past the pub and all the little shops. My eye caught theAstartesign, and I felt a pang. I wished the old witch Clara would talk to us. Something told me she had more power in her pinkie finger than the six of us could conjure in our most epic spell.
We drove out into the countryside, following the signs to the nearby town of Crooks Worthy. My stomach twisted into knots.
Please let Blake be wrong. Please don’t let there be a way for Daigh to hurt Connor or anyone else.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, we entered the village and Arthur pulled over in front of an enormous cathedral. The looming gothic spires couldn’t have looked more intimidating if they tried, with their dark stone carvings and dramatic arches. As I got out of the car, I spotted a gargoyle leering over the edge of the roof. Rain pelted down on us, and there was no one waiting around outside.
We raced for the open doors.
I skidded to a stop on the slippery marble floor, my breath in my throat. Everything looked normal. At least, what I assumed was normal for a Protestant baptism that wasn’t overrun with evil fae. It didn’t look as though things had kicked off yet. Jane stood at the front of the church, wearing a figure-hugging red dress that I wouldn’t have called Church Appropriate under any circumstances, but she did look amazing. She bounced Connor in her arms as she chatted to the vicar, who didn’t seem to know where to look. Sheryl Brownley bustled around, waving her arms while Corbin and Blake teetered under the weight of an enormous floral arrangement. Corbin had some kind of faded drawing on his cheek. It almost looked like a cartoon cock and balls.
