“Barrett Vexley, Divination Witch and love of Petra Blackthorn’s life,” I call out, making my intention of who we’re looking for clear. Maybe I’m trying to butter him up a little. “Te voco. Hoc vase utere et veritatem tuam dic. Te voco.”
Opening my eyes, I lead the other witches. We all say the incantation together three times.
On the last word, a few of the candles blow out, enough to make me nervous. Looking at Archer, he nods so subtly I’m not sure even Sybil noticed. I gulp down my fear and continue, repeating similar words to last time.
“We welcome the spirits of the Dreaming Willow Inn with good intentions. However, we’re looking for Barrett Vexley tonight,” I say, making our goal clear. “We have questions—we want to know his true history.”
We wait in silence for a few seconds. When I’m about to speak again, a few more candles blow out. I’m ready to call it off when Archer’s head twitches in an abnormal way and tilts to the side. His eyes are closed, but open quickly and look around.
When he stands straight, I recognize the stance and posture. I’ve seen Nestor’s mannerisms from my many hallucinations. He crosses his arms when Archer would have slid his hands into his pockets.
Confusion clouds everyone else’s expressions except for Sybil. She looks at me expectantly.
“Barrett?” I ask. “Are you here so we can talk?”
He looks around, confused. “I did not mean to come here—you summoned me. I want to leave this place. Gods, I want toleave!”
His voice grows in agitation, and I try to stay calm.
“I want to help you leave. All three of you,” I say. “The entire coven, if I’m understanding correctly.”
His eyes meet mine, but they’re cold—dead. “Leave that bastard for all I care.”
My mouth drops open. “Did you and Petra know about his affair?”
I mentally flip through what I remember from her journals. I’ve read most of them a dozen times by now, but knowing about Nestor’s affair with Calista, there’s no evidence that makes me believe Petra knew. She knew about his affections for Cassia before her death, and the guilt of her affair with Barrett, along with the heartbreak of not being with him, was practically eating her alive by the last entry.
“Not until it was too late,” he says with malice.
His eyes move behind me and he snarls, stepping forward but running into the salt barrier. He bangs his hands against the invisible wall. It holds firm. I look over my shoulder and see Nestor’s apparition in the corner. He’s too far away to see his expression in the dark room, but his presence only angers Barrett.
“Nestor,” I call over my shoulder, holding tight to Rowyn and Sybil. “You need to leave. I’m sorry I brought him here bu—”
“Sorry you brought me?” Barrett spits out. “He should be the one apologizing—for ever coming back!”
“When did you find out?” I ask him. “What do you mean it was too late? Please, tell me anything—something to help us.”
“Petra and I learned about his cowardice the night of our deaths,” he seethes and paces around the circle. “He ruined everything—twice. Now, part of our souls are stuck in this godforsaken inn with his ghost. I cannot even enjoy the afterlife with my Petra because ofhim.”
“Why did the coven bind their souls to the inn?” I ask frantically. The longer I hold the connection, I grow more and more tired. My eyes are heavy and my lungs begin to constrict. Even with the help of the coven, I’ve never expelled this much magic at once, and I haven’t been at myfull capacity since arriving to Briarhollow. “Why trap a part of yourself here forever?”
“Not forever,” he says, moving like a trapped animal. “Long enough to keep the inn and coven safe. The coven…” He scoffs. “We were young and ambitious, making many choices to protect ourselves.” He looks around the circle, taking in the faces of his friends’ descendants before lingering on Sybil. She isn’t identical to Barrett’s twin sister, Everly, but there are many similarities. “Unfortunately for you, Calista is not your only enemy.”
“Calista…” I shake my head. “No, she isn’t our enemy. She’s not afriendbut she’s… She’s a victim in many ways.”
He lets out a cold, angry laugh. “Victim?You call that wretch a victim?” He sneers in disgust.“You are no better than Nestor if you can be so easily swayed by a pretty face.”
Ouch.
“Who do you think cursed the Blackthorn line?” he asks harshly. “Who else could be so vile to see innocentpeopleas collateral damage during a lovers’ spat?”
Nestor’s orb state goes flying around the room, knocking down all the bookshelves and ripping through the furniture we spent so much time on. So muchmoneyon.
“Nestor!” I scream. “Stop!”
My pleas, and Barrett’s curses, only spur him on more.
“Yes,” Barrett grinds out. “It is his fault, but he is not a murderer. Only a coward and a thief.”
