Two figures sit in wingback chairs facing the flames, bone china teacups steaming beside them on end tables.
My heart stutters as they turn.
Elizabeth’s black coils are now silver, and her deep brown skin is wrinkled and age-spotted. Her bright green eyes are even sharper and more knowing than I remember. She wears a flowing green gown that shimmers like a pond, and her magic is as strong as ever, making my skin prickle. She smiles, but I can’t smile back because the woman seated next to her has turned my blood to ice.
“How—dareyou,” I snarl, stepping forward. Everything I want to shout gathers in my throat at once, choking me.
Rebecca is still devastating after all these years. Those dark eyes that looked at me with desire before she cursed me now glitter coldly. Herblonde hair is streaked with gray, and age has carved lines into her face that only make her more beautifully severe. Her black dress clings to curves I remember too well, and when she smiles, the wickedness of it makes me wonder how I never saw her deceit coming.
“Julia,” she purrs, crossing her legs. “You look radiant. Though I suppose a century of beauty sleep will do that.”
My magic coils like a serpent ready to strike. “And I have you to thank for that?”
Rebecca’s answering sneer makes molten rage bubble inside me.I’ll kill her.
The fireplace crackles, sending sparks up the chimney. The heat should be comforting after the cold night air, but instead it reminds me of another fire, another house, the night she must have whispered a curse against my skin while I was too drunk on pleasure to notice.
“Tell me how to break it,” I say, flexing my fingers.
Rebecca hums, pretending to consider.
I wonder what the best way to force her to talk is. Which method of torture would be most effective on Rebecca Cooper…
“It’s nice to see you after so long, Julia,” Elizabeth interjects, lifting her teacup to her lips. “How did you find us?”
“Necromancy. One of Florence’s descendants.”
Elizabeth and Rebecca exchange a knowing look. “Maya,” Elizabeth says. “She’s been a difficult one to recruit. More powerful than she pretends to be.”
I scan the otherwise empty room, concerned with more pressing matters than Maya. “Are you all that’s left?”
“The other sisters have gone home for the night.” Elizabeth takes a sip and places her cup back on the end table. “Nina moved to Portugal, and we lost Florence and Patricia to some nasty business, but the rest have stuck around.”
Do I risk asking what happened to them? Witch deaths are rarely simple, and the details are often gruesome. I open my mouth but stop myself, because Rebecca’s gaze has landed on Hannah like a snake spotting a mouse.
“You must be Julia’s new pet.” Rebecca arches an eyebrow playfully. “She’s quite lovely, Julia. Lucky you.”
Something white-hot roars inside me, but before I can respond, Hannah snaps, “I’m standing right here. And I’m not anyone’s pet.”
Rebecca’s eyebrows rise. “Oh, she has claws!” She turns to address Hannah. “Julia mustlovehow feisty you are. How many times has she fed on you?”
“Enough, Rebecca.” I step toward her, magic sparking between my fingers.
Rebecca jumps to her feet and lifts her hands in defense, all playfulness gone.
“Not in my house,” Elizabeth warns, standing too.
I stop. We stare at each other, a standoff, the room humming with magic like lightning gathering to strike. Rebecca’s chin is up, her nostrils flaring.
“Still the same witch who threw a bowl at Florence on her first day in the coven, I see,” Elizabeth says, regarding me over her nose.
I drop my hands, balling my fists.
It’s disorienting to see my sisters aged by a century while I remain frozen at forty. My gaze catches on features that betray their years—a wrinkle here, an age spot there, a gauntness in their cheeks that were once round and full. Even the way they speak has changed, like the way Hannah speaks. They’ve lived through a century of seasons, love and loss, and thousands of sunsets. Time has carved lines into their faces and wisdom into their eyes while they’ve led rich, full lives. I, meanwhile, have had nothing.
“If I were you,” I say to Rebecca, “I would’ve just killed me instead of wasting time sealing me inside a book.”
Rebecca hums. “I’ve had a word with the witch responsible for said relic.”
