“It’s abrilliantidea. One of mymostbrilliant, in fact. The whole village believes we’re witches. After what they saw at the church, that belief is leaping around like wildfire. It’s probably even stronger than when your mum was messing around with it.”
Maeve sighed. “But this isn’t like last time. They’re not just mildly amused by the commune of hippies up at the old castle. Theyhateus, and they’ve got that mob mentality. We’ve already seen them attack Jane for her career choice, and they werewilling to hurt Connor. But after all those people died at the church… we don’t want to incur their wrath.”
“I think that’s exactly what we should do.” I patted the statue. “We feed the beast and then collect all that belief and store it in my sculptures. That way, we can collect even more power than you and Aline and Blake can hold yourselves.”
Maeve’s eyes blazed. I thought she was going to scold me, which was kind of hot, especially when the little vein popped out in her neck.
“And I know you said no going off and doing things by yourself,” I finished hurriedly. “But I wanted to make a statue anyway. Even if we don’t use it for collecting magic, it will at least make a fun addition to the courtyard.”
Maeve’s mouth twisted up into a grin. She reached up and kissed me, her lips fire on my skin. “You’re right, Flynnmeister. Youarea genius.”
“Told you.” I grabbed a mangled exhaust pipe from Arthur’s last car and tossed it at her. “Now hold that for me. Our witch is going to need a wee familiar.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
SEVEN: CORBIN
At least I got my library back.
I’d come running as soon as I heard Maeve and Kelly screaming at each other. Kelly pushed past me on the way down the hall and disappeared into Jane’s room. Maeve collapsed into my arms, but left a few minutes later, as if all she needed was a moment with me to steady herself before she went off to tackle her next foe. Aline followed behind her, and I’d got to work hunting for information on belief magic.
The grimoire of the Georgian-era Briarwood coven contained some references to belief, so that was the first book I pulled out to study. The author of this text was the magister at the time, and he also happened to be the Bishop of the local Anglican diocese. He believed the magic the coven wielded and the power of the Holy Spirit were one and the same thing.
We speak of the powers of good and evil, of angels and demons. Godly men believe that the Lord’s grace channels through them – they have no choice but to perform His will. Because witches wield magic of their own will and volition, they are believed corrupted by demons. They are in violation ofScripture, for all miracles must come from God. In truth, there is only one kind of magic – the power of belief. Can not we?—
Noises outside pulled me from the text. I leaned back in my wingback chair, staring out the window at the gardens below. Flynn’s workshop door was open, and judging by the bangs, crashes, and curses coming from within, he was working on some new project. Maeve headed out the kitchen door and stopped to speak to Rowan, before heading along the path toward Flynn’s workshop. Aline and Rowan moved between the vegetable and herb gardens in the walled courtyard behind the kitchen, talking and laughing with each other as they filled up wooden trugs with produce and sprigs. Rowan raised his gaze to the library window. I almost leapt back, feeling guilty for looking, but then I remembered that we were a thing now. I waved at him. His whole face broke into a smile.
Fuck, he has a gorgeous smile.
Rowan and me – I didn’t know what to make of it. I’d never considered that I might want to be involved with a guy. Of course, there was the group thing we all had with Maeve, but that was all about her – pleasing her, worshipping her, loving her the way she deserved to be loved.
Maeve’s presence at Briarwood had thrown so much into chaos. From that chaos had risen this uncertainty abouteverything. This battle with the fae could go to a dark place. We could all die any day now. The future was a big black hole. Every time I looked into the black hole and tried to figure out what would happen, I got scared.
I don’t do uncertainty.
There were only two things that made that fear seem worthwhile.
There was Maeve, and there was Rowan.
Rowan deserved happiness and love and a future. Of all of us, he’d had the worst start in life. From the moment I found himin that shitty squat, I’d wanted to give him everything. If that meant my heart too, than I was glad to do it.
Rowan turned back to the garden, and I went to return to my book, but something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. A figure in a bright blue dress walked quickly across the grass. Maeve? I’d seen her head out toward Flynn’s workshops a few minutes ago. The figure was heading the wrong way.
Kelly.
Maeve still hadn’t explained everything, and I guessed from Kelly’s yelling before that she’d been hiding in the library while we spoke to Aline. I wondered why she was still here – if I’d been Kelly I would’ve left for Jane’s house, but then I remembered how Dora had threatened Jane at her cottage. With the villagers on the warpath, Jane probably didn’t want to go back there with Connor. At least here, they had Briarwood to protect them.
Sighing, I turned away and pulled our own grimoire across the desk, spreading it open on top of the other book and flicking to the page about pouring magic into objects. I’d always interpreted the spell as using magic to manipulate objects, which was not something we’d ever needed to do. But now that Maeve and Flynn had figured out the truth, I could see how I needed to rethink my translation.
I picked up my pen to start work on the text, but all I could think about was Maeve’s sister running across the lawn. Maeve wasn’t the best at dealing with Kelly’s religious beliefs. Maybe it someone a bit lessscientificshould speak to Kelly first.
I dropped my pen and raced downstairs via the secret staircase. I went out the kitchen door, waving to Rowan as I cut across the kitchen garden. I followed Kelly’s path down toward the rear of the property. The gate to the orchard was slightly ajar. I swung it open, scanning the trees for any sign of Kelly.
“Hey, Kelly, it’s Corbin. Are you in here?”
No answer except the twittering of birds in the trees.
My heart pounded against my chest. I didn’t like going in the orchard. This was where I’d found Keegan hanging from a bent old oak on the lower boundary, just beyond the gate where the orchard met the woods. Dad cut the oak down before they left Briarwood, but the ghost of that tree still loomed over the orchard.
