He has Corbin’s body.
I couldn’t bear it. A sob escaped my throat.
Blake’s hand clamped around mine, jolting me out of my grief. We dived into each other’s minds, casting out with our magic. Arthur’s wrathful image burned in my mind, and I took his rage into myself and forced it outward, hunting out the fae one by one and gripping their minds with my own.
Leave this place,Blake commanded through my mind.
Images slammed into me – flashes of life in the fae realm, of Daigh leering over me while pain rocked through my body, of revels and orgies and dreams of green places without barriers. The images swirled and changed – the bright forest and green meadows of Tir Na Nog replaced by dark hallways lined with wooden doors and harrowing screams, of fae burning in a black cauldron as their souls were captured to unleash the Slaugh, of dark creatures made of shadow and nightmares, reaching through the fog for me.
You’re not welcome here,Blake hissed.
The thought slammed into the connected minds, and they, and I, turned around and fled to the crack, and in a hundred splintered fractures of thought I, and they, leapt into the gloom.
Blake threw his arms around me and held me still so I wouldn’t follow them, but my mind tipped over the edge a hundred times. As the void swallowed the fae, their minds uncoupled and spun free, severing their thoughts and memories until finally there were none left.
My mind spun from the emptiness. I rocked on my feet, struggling to remain upright. Blake’s voice faded, pulling me out of the darkness with him.
“Now the villagers,” he whispered. “Maeve, can you do it again?”
I nodded. Blake gripped my hand and pressed his lips to mine, feeding me his energy. I sucked in a breath, dropped through space again and into the minds of the villagers around us. It was even easier than finding the fae – the villages were too scared to notice our presence tapping on the edge of their conscience. Blake fed them thoughts of trust and safety.Follow the witches and everything will be okay.
I tried to close my mind from the images that assailed it, but there was no stopping the torrent of fear pouring into me. My throat closed as Ilivedthe fear of the villagers, long simmering and deep rooted. Every unexplained phenomena and personal misfortune jokingly attributed to ‘the witches up at the castle,’ until it wasn’t a joke anymore, but a belief. Fears of parents that their kids would be sucked into a cult and forsake their futures, that they’d all die in some silly ritual like all those people did 21 years ago. Deep personal distress that by acknowledging the coven they would be cast out of the village as well. Small minds and small hearts that smiled politely while they wallowed in doubts and nightmares.
Our faces flashed in a blur of terror – Flynn’s twinkling eyes suddenly menacing, Corbin’s bookish interests becoming reclusive obsession, Rowan’s anxiety and skin colour a reminder of the other lurking in the shadows, Blake’s cool beauty utterly frightening.
That’s not what we are,I cried into the onslaught, but the thoughts and images kept coming, again and again painting us as the architects of horror. Every tragedy, every evil thing, every unexplained coincidence in the village had built a mountain of evidence against us. We were the scapegoats for grief and hatred and woe.
For the first time, I understood the true, awesome, and destructive power ofbelief.
Hopelessness settled on my heart, burrowing deeper with every fresh horror flashing front of my eyes. Even if we triumphed against the fae, what hope did we have of living a peaceful life amongst such hatred?
Blake pushed his voice through my thoughts, and they, and I, felt his authority rumbling in our chests.
Trust the witches. Follow them to the castle and you’ll be safe.
It’s not working,I cried.
Of course it won’t if you don’t believe it, Princess!
Through the jumble of images and memories and sensations, I found my own mind – the one voice of dissention against a tide of hate. I tore up every good feeling and every true emotion the guys had given me, every kind word and every hug and every secret they’d trusted to me and every piece of their pain they’d shared with me. I bundled up those pieces of them and I shoved them into a tiny, hard ball and I fired theirspiritinto the villagers.
The images changed. Flashes of the boys in the village – Corbin chatting with the butcher, Flynn and Arthur helping an old lady lift her groceries into her car, Rowan dropping off a tray of seedlings for the kindergarten garden, his face hidden behind a curtain of locs. Blake at the pub trying to break up Flynn’s fight. Me looking like my mother reborn, my terrified face pinned to the window of my taxi as I drove through Crookshollow for the first time.
Around us, people gasped and cried out, and the images swirled and swelled, becoming a flood of beautiful acts and everyday kindnesses and simple truths. Theysaw.They saw my boys as they truly were – the witches in the castle who had no one else but each other, who loved fiercely and fought on theside of what was good and right and true, even when they fought alone.
Trust the witches,Blake screamed over the images.Run to the castle. They will save you!
They ran.
Screaming and crying with the force of the emotions I’d pushed through them, they surged toward the small meadow gate, heading up toward the blazing castle. As each passed through the gate their minds unhitched, taking with them tiny pieces of my love.
My emptying mind reeled as it was plunged into darkness, no longer seeing the battlefield and the burning castle beyond through the eyes of the villages. I kept my own eyes clamped shut and flung myself around, searching for something to lift the darkness.
“I got you, Princess,” Blake’s voice whispered in my ear. His warmth wrapped around me, bringing me back to the present. I opened my eyes, seeing the meadow through my own mind, my retinas burning from the pain of it all. Black tendrils curled toward us. They’d completely engulfed the bonfire and the stakes. I could no longer discern the lights of Crookshollow in the distance, nor could I see Aline or Smithers or any of the others.
Blake and Flynn grabbed an arm each and yanked me forward. I forced my legs to move, slipping and sliding over the long grass as I ran with them up toward the castle. My chest burned. My feet pounded against the path as we ducked through the trees. The villagers fell in step behind us, winding up the narrow meadow path and collapsing in the wide parking area outside the portcullis, where the taxi driver had dropped me off on my very first day at Briarwood.
At the edge of the parking area we caught up with Rowan. He collapsed against me, his whole body shaking. I buried my head in his shoulder, letting his long locks hide my face from the fire.
