Less rushed, Esme and Rowyn explain everything that happened after the seance. The amount of magic Renata used tonight is unheard of in modern times. Magic isn’t as raw as it was centuries ago, but Renata was able to tap into something ancient to perform three different rituals within the span of a couple of hours.
Hexate’s bite sounds like something out of supernatural folklore. Familiars hold some of our young magic, bonding them to us and keeping that excess in check. It’s why our magic is considered to be mature once we find our familiar. Their touch, and even their blood, can enhance a spell or ritual.
Her venom though?
In the hundreds of books I’ve read, it’s never been documented. I doubt Renata and Hexate were the first bonded pair to perform that magic transfer, but it’s not something this world has seen in centuries.
Looking down at Renata, I wonder what else our ancestors have in store for us—which unknown enemy of theirs will knock on our door next. It’s only the tumultuous start for this coven.
Sybil shakes her head. “There was never supposed to be a price or cure. Not until Renata weaseled one out of her.”
I let out a dry laugh and look down at my Chosen, running a hand over her head. She’s warming slowly.
Quickly, I tell them about the memory I was shown before waking up. Tears fill each of their eyes, and I expect Renata to be even more distraught about the truth of that night.
“If there’s one thing she values, it’s honesty,” I say. “I think it was Calista who showed me the memory. When she was walking away, she turned and talked to me.”
Sybil asks, “What did she say?” There’s concern and protectiveness laced into her words. I know she has regrets about coming to Briarhollow, but I don’t.
I wanted a coven for her. Instead we found a family for both of us.
“That she’d be seeing me soon,” I admit with a shrug.
A sober mood cloaks the room as the women have the same realization I did: this is only the beginning.
“Renata said there is enough everoot here for two small tonics,” I remind them. “So, whatever favor I owe, I am willing to pay her price. As well as any other that may threaten this coven.”
None of them look certain their lives are worth it. I am.
Suddenly, Renata gasps and flies into a sitting position. Her eyes open wide and she gasps for breath.
“Shh,” I soothe and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her into my body. “We’re all here. You’re okay now, Little Wisp.”
She looks around, cataloguing each of our faces as she calms down and settles against me. Her body is shaking violently and her breathing is erratic still, but she’s awake.
“You’re here,” she says, looking up at me with tears.
“I am, and I have you to thank for that.”
She wraps her arms around me and cries. Eventually, she moves from my lap to hug and thank each of the other women. She and Sybil fall into an emotional embrace for a long time. Neither says anything, but so much passes between them.
When she sits back in my lap, Rowyn cleans and bandages her hand while we fill her in on the details of my resurrection, and the memory Calista shared with me.
Just as expected, she cries at the knowledge her ancestors were with her tonight, and the truth about Petra’s death. Renata’s less surprised by Hexate’s part in the resurrection. It’s nothing they’ve performed, but she has wondered how Hexate’s venom would be different from a normal rattlesnake’s.
I hold her in my lap the entire time, still in the mess of the salt circle, while we process what happened tonight and what it means for the future. None of us are positive, but we all agree that there’s more to come. It’s thrumming in our blood.
Chapter 52
Renata
Sitting on a picnic blanket in the meadow, I stare down at the blank sheet of paper in front of me and consider how I want this letter to go.
It’s been three weeks since I traded Nestor’s soul for Archer’s. I wish I could say I didn’t have any regrets about my choice. It passes quickly, but it weighs on me often. It’s a small consolation to know she can’t put his soul back into a body herself.
I know if I was presented with the choice again, I would do it all the same. Now that I know the truth—though a lot is still fragmented—a righteous part of me knows that Archer and I deserve this life together. Neither of us should have to pay for Nestor’s selfish dissatisfaction. Petra, Barrett, and everyone else who came into proximity with him didn’t deserve it, either.
I try to push the dreadful thoughts ofwhyCalista wanted his soul so badly out of my mind and focus on other things.
