Renata
The temperature in the room quickly drops, silencing all of us. Even Nestor in his agitated orb-state has calmed down and moves slowly around the perimeter of the room, close to the hallway.
The patio doors are thrown open, and a beautiful stranger walks inside, her hand open before she roughly slashes it through the air and closes her fist tightly.
My eyes widen, and I watch Archer’s soul float through the air, into her grip.
“No!” I scream, helplessly scratching at my own chest. Where his soul goes, mine now does too. “No,no.”
“Stupid girl,” the woman says and slowly walks closer. “Your mother always talked about you, how impulsive andstupidher daughter was.”
Wiping my eyes, I stare at her for a few seconds, confused.My mothertalked about me. I know everyone my mother knows… Except for one.
My entire being switches into survivor mode. Even after months, it’s familiar and nauseating. My tears start to slow and my heart begins to race faster. I’m keenly aware of our new guest.
Slowly, I try to stand. It’s like a newborn deer finding balance for the first time, but some of my strength comes back as the adrenaline catches up.
“Calista,” I say, a hint of uncertainty. When the woman offers me a predatory smile, I say, “That soul doesn’t belong to you.”
“And you think it belongs toyou?” Calista asks, taunting me.
“It does,” I say. “He’s my Chosen, we belong to each other.”
Esme and Rowyn gasp at the admission. I offer them each a quick glance, noting the surprise each of them are wearing. Even Sybil.
“You’ll follow him into the next life then. Like you promised,” she says with a predatory smile.
When Calista begins to walk around the room, I move around our circle, keeping myself between the succubus and my coven. Esme, always so brave and loyal, is the first to stand. She walks to my side, creating a barrier around Archer and Clementine. Sybil is quick to follow, still crying, but it’s quieter now.
Rowyn follows, taking her place next to Esme. I hear Clover and Clementine argue behind me quietly until only the older Foxglove sister takes a place in our line.
With the exception of Hexate, who is slithering her way up my leg, the other familiars have positioned themselves behind Calista. All of them are predators other than Astra, but even she looks deadly and protective right now.
My coven—myfamily.
“I thought… I hadsympathyfor you,” I seethe. “I thought Nestor was the murderer.”
“Yes, after you considered it was Barrett. Maybe even Petra,” Calista replies in a bored tone. “You witches think so highly of yourselves, that you’re so much better than those ‘humans,’ as if you are not fickle beings at your core too.”
“What can we trade you for Archer’s soul?” Rowyn asks, taking a small step forward. I’m thankful for her bartering because I’m starting to feel like a trapped animal, ready to lash out. I’m no longer the fearful, meek girl who ran away from her mother’s home. Now I have a coven and a love to fight for—afuture.
When Calista doesn’t say anything, only staring at Rowyn like she’s sizing up her prey, my pulse is all I can hear. My gaze jumps between the two of them, ready to step in before Calista can act.
Seemingly unfazed, Rowyn tries again. “That’s how things work with you, right? Is it whatever you take in exchange for everoot? Because we will give you that,” she says, waving a hand in front of the five of us.
“I don’t want your blood,” she says, happy to see our surprise at the price. Demons don’t require blood like vampires. I’ve never even heard stories of such a thing. Before I can consider other possibilities, she says with a saccharine smile, “I want Nestor. That’s a fair trade.”
We look around at each other. I move forward, staring at her for a long time. Assessing the pros and cons of the situation. At face value, it seems simple enough.Fair,even. Calista is the murderer, the culprit for all the pain that Gray Witches in my family have experienced over the last century. And yet…
Istillhave sympathy for her.
Not enough to give up Archer or the one goal I’ve had since I received Cordelia’s letter—to end this fucking curse.
“I want Archerandfor this stupid ‘curse’ to be removed.” Before Calista can say anything, I continue, “I understand why you want Nestor. It’s clear that no one, including Petra and Barrett, were fully innocent. Archer shared your story with me, and I would want retribution too—not only for Nestor, but for every male who has scorned you.”
The other witches’ eyes are on me, trying to follow along. The plan is still forming as I taunt her back.
A witch’s grudge is child’s play compared to a demon’s. I can use that.
