Grabbing her hand, I peek around the bookcase and see that he’s now talking to who I can only assume is Rowyn’s grandfather. While they’re distracted, I pull her out of the library. The door has almost shut when I hear her name called out, but I don’t stop until we’re down the street and around the corner.
“Renata,” Rowyn cries from behind me and tugs her hand free. She rubs her wrist with a disgruntled expression. I give her an apologetic look, not realizing how tightly I was gripping her. “What is wrong with you?” she demands.
Ignoring her question, I ask, “What do you mean you saw him in the photo? Wasn’t his face obscured?” The anger fades and is replaced with the concern I’ve come to know well in our short friendship—alwaysdirected at me. “There was a flash or… or dust orsomethingcovering him.”
Shaking her head slowly, she takes a step forward and places her hand on my arm. “No, Renata, his face has always been visible.”
The blood drains from my face and my breathing grows faster, more shallow.
“I don’t understand,” I try to tell her through my hyperventilating. “That isn’t possible.”
Wrapping an arm around my waist and looking behind us one final time, she guides us to her car and quickly pulls out of the spot and down the road back to the inn.
The entire way, my eyes are glued to the rearview mirror, expecting—or maybe hoping—to see the man from my dreams following us.
Chapter 19
Renata
As soon as we get back to the Dreaming Willow Inn, I make a beeline to the back garden, following the soft murmurs and cheerful giggles of the other three women. Rowyn is hot on my heels the entire way. Her anxiety was growing the entire drive back, but she never said anything. I appreciate her ability to be silent in stressful situations more than she may ever realize.
When I come around the corner, three heads whip in my direction. They’re sitting on the back patio, spread out on a blanket and enjoying the warm day.
“Everything okay?” Esme asks in her naturally syrupy voice.
“Family meeting,” I tell them, the word tickling my tongue. Ever since Rowyn used the term, it’s felt right. Not even in my own family did we ever use that word, it was always coven. “Now.”
Without waiting to see their reactions, I turn around and throw the double doors open. I stop in front of the lit fireplace and wait with my arms crossed.
Other than the first day that Rowyn cast the fire, I’ve never paid much attention to all of them throughout the house. Not even the one in my bedroom. Now that I am, I can’t help but wonder if the flame is somehow getting bigger? Stronger?
Rowyn’s magic would have been quietly keeping them all aflame for weeks now. The incantation needed to light the hearth is something different, taken from a well of ancient power that every witch has but with limited access. It wouldn’t drain us the same way these small house fires should be doing to her, especially for a witch who has declared herself as weak as Rowyn has.
It’s her voice that pulls me out of my thoughts, letting them drift off to be forgotten in favor of the matter at hand.
“Nothing major to worry about,” Rowyn says in comfort to Clementine, wrapping an arm around her. Shooting me a sharp look, she adds, “Right?”
Nodding, I promise them, “There’s been a sudden change in plans, but we’re making these decisions together.”
A resolute calm settles around us at the first step in the direction of a true coven. They had no reason to believe my previous promise, but now my words have actions to back it up.
“I… don’t know where to start,” I admit, glancing at Rowyn. “The beckoning spell or the photo?”
As if we both remembered the significance of said photo, she jumps out of her seat next to Clementine.
“Where is it?” she asks.
Racking my brain, I try to remember where I set it.
“The nightstand to the right of my bed, I think.” Biting my lip for a second, I add, “It’s probably tucked into a journal. May as well bring that down too.”
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything as she runs to get the items.
“Esme,” I say as I turn my attention to the group. “You mentioned something when you first arrived. I forgot about it. Now, I need to know.”
She sits up straight and looks around the group. “Sure, Renata. Whatever questions you have, I’ll answer. There’s nothing to hide.”
I don’t miss the tone of confusion and betrayal.
