Her blurry figure came into view through the kitchen window. I’m used to being followed by her now. I’m not sure why she chooses to stay close to me, not when Rowyn lives here and they’ve known each other for years. Poppy is less temperamental than the first day we met and seems to be warming up to me, despite the physical distance she tends to keep. I don’t mind her.
Until today when she swooped down as soon as I walked off the porch, flapping her wings at my head. The little beast woke up anddecided today was the day she’d finally attack. I ran toward the gate, trying to get away from her, and the closer I got to the street, the less aggravated she was. When she only berated me for making or missing a turn, it was clear she was trying to guide me somewhere.
There weren’t a lot of possibilities, but I still didn’t expect her to bring me here—into Edmond and Cordelia’s home.
The shock is microscopic compared to my gratitude. There weren’t any signs that Poppy would allow me to go inside, so I hadn’t tried again out of respect for her and her bonded witch. It doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about Cordelia though.
It’s unlikely that anything inside the house will clue me into our family or curse—not if she was as secretive as Rowyn has said—but itcangive me a look into her life.
Cordelia had everything I have always desired, and am now getting a small taste of. She and Sylvie Connor didn’t have a coven as full as mine, but they had friends. An entire town of people who cared about them and have continued to keep their memories alive. Cordelia made the Soul Tie Bond with her heart’s Chosen. She lived for decades, happily it seems, before she succumbed to her mind’s deterioration.
And Poppy is offering me a chance to get to peek into her life.
I rapidly blink back tears and stare at the house, anxious to go inside. From the way Poppy shifts her weight, she’s getting impatient. She’s giving me an olive branch, one I doubt will be offered again.
Taking a deep breath, I sense his presence before I hear the roar of his motorcycle. Letting my head fall to the side, I watch him slow to a stop a few feet from me.
Cursed spirits, removing a helmet and getting off a motorcycle shouldn’t be as hot as Archer is making it. I can’t look away. His forearms flex as he grips the bottom of the headgear, shaking out his messy hair. The dark jeans complement his lean, muscular frame as he lifts a leg and pulls it over the seat. The fabric bunches around his upper thighs at the movement, bringing my attention right to his crotch.
Dear Gods, I chastise myself and look away quickly.
Clearly not fast enough by his satisfied chuckle.
My eyes squint into a glare directed at the house, not wanting to see the expression that matches his laugh.
With a sigh, I try to hide my grief over Cordelia and cross my arms. When he stops next to me, I ask with exasperation, “Where are you going?”
He gives me an assessing onceover. His bright eyes meet mine. “Back to the inn.”
I roll my eyes and look back at Edmond’s house. Whisper slinks between his legs to sit by our feet, and they stare with me.
“I didn’t expect to find you here,” he says and looks around, “on a random street.”
My lips lift a little, but drop just as quickly. “Mmm,” I hum in acknowledgment.
I feel his gaze on me for a few more seconds before he turns forward again. “Are you going to say hello?”
I wish I could.
Glumly, I shake my head. “This was Edmond and Cordelia’s home. Poppy was his familiar.”
He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes slide back to me, focusing for a long moment. I’m not sure how freely Archer uses his magic, but I wouldn’t be upset if he used it to probe further. Maybe he could disentangle these sensations.
Unsure why, I continue. “We were estranged. Poppy delivered a letter to me a couple weeks after she died. I wasn’t welcome inside when I first arrived.”
“How did she die?” he asks, a little dazed. When I turn to look at him, his Adam’s apple bobs, and his eyes are still on me, glazed and unfocused.
Gale hasn’t told the Vexley twins about our only working theory, but I wonder what he knows. The town’s belief that Cordelia’s death being tied to the curse’s effect on her mind isn’t a secret. He’s trying to solve the same puzzle we are. I’ve gotten used to talking about the curse and its effects, but I understand having to grapple with the reality of losing each other when we’ve only just found each other.
“Technically speaking,” I answer slowly, “She succumbed to witch’s fray.”
Our gazes hold onto each other while he puts the pieces together, like I did when Rowyn said nearly the same thing to me.
He swallows. “Gale said the curse affects Blackthorn witches similarly to witch’s fray.” I raise my eyebrows at him, not willing to say it. After a moment, he nods in resignation. “So, Cordelia passed away from the deterioration of her mind due to the curse.”
“Edmond followed her soon after,” I finish his thought.
It’s obvious that Edmond bound his soul to hers with the intent of chasing her spirit into every life. It’s one I can’t let go of—one of the very few things to always spark that ember of hope into something more.
