It was one of the reasons I loved her. And one of the reasons I worried about her so much.
“What does any of this have to do with you?” I asked, emotion suddenly clawing at my throat.
“Everything!” she hissed. “Magick flows from the gods.Allof the gods. Including their daughters.” Steam settled around her like a veil, cloaking her in a robe like a priestess. “Maris’s devotees became the first Witches of the Tide. And that is who I am. Imogen Thadashi. Witch of the Tide.”
Her eyes flashed brilliant green, and the cavern was flooded with light. The lake churned, and hot water slapped against my knees, soaking through my robe. I didn’t doubt that Imogen had the power to control the water, or that she possessed the gift of sight. But magick didn’t make someone honest. There was a reason why she was telling me this story. I just didn’t understand it yet.
“If this story is true, then where are your fellow witches?” I asked.
The green light that had filled the cavern dimmed, and Imogen’s shoulders sagged. “There was a time when the little goddesses and their devotees, witches of their respective trades, lived in harmony. Maris’s Witches of the Tide and Rosa’s Witches of the Wind weren’t fond of each other, but they knew each was as important to the balance of magick as the Witches of the Light and Darkness. But divisions began, as they so often do. And eventually, the little goddesses and their magick disappeared.”
I raised a skeptical brow. “What happened to them?”
“What happened, indeed?” she repeated. “It’s hard to say.”
Now it was my turn to cross my arms. “I thought you were a seer.”
The old witch gave me a doleful look. “Seers don’t have all the answers. At least not when it comes to the gods. All I know is when the war between the goddesses was over and the dust settled, the only magick remaining came from either Damien or Diana. Without their daughters’ magick, the world became duller. Less playful. Less kind. And so the Witches of the Light and Darkness blamed each other. Turningsisterintoenemy.”
I might not trust this Imogen completely, but I understood this part. She was right. Our world wasn’t playful or kind. And Mama had always needed someone to blame for the weak spells or my purple hair. If something went wrong, it was because dark magick was allowed to exist. It was the vampire’s fault for always protecting them and living in castles while the wind whistled through our windows.
And I’d believed her. I’d blamed Bastien, too, in the beginning. Absently, I started rolling the horn between my palms. My thoughts wandering through all that I’d heard.
If Diana and Damien were so powerful, whycouldn’t they make their daughters get along? Why allow their daughter’s people to die in an endless war? Only to let it happen all over again between their own people? The questions twisted inside me, shame and anger rising, until I didn’t know who deserved my rage more: my mother, these gods, or myself for believing any of it.
“If this is all true, and the daughter’s magick died out, then how are you still here?”
She turned her attention to the rows and rows of seashells she had stacked along the rocks. Straightening them one by one. “By Maris’s grace and the power of my people.”
As she moved the shells around, the air grew thicker, making it difficult to draw in a full breath. Almost like the cavern had sucked all the air out. The white wolf growled. The brown one snapped his teeth, hackles lifting.
“I am the steward,” she continued. “The very last water witch. Tasked with staring into these waters with the hope that ancient magick will return to the world.”
Despite the sickly hot temperature of the cavern, a chill ran down my spine. The goddesses. The war. The intimacy between Diana and Damien, only for it to all burn. It all swirled inside me until my hands were shaking and I didn’t know what to believe.
“I’ve spent many,manyyears waiting for a sign of Maris’s return. For an inkling that the goddesses have reawakened and their magick is gathering. Because a witch isnothingwithout her coven.” Her attention drifted to me. “But I don’t have to tell you that,do I?
“What do you mean?” I asked, hands trembling.
Imogen just stared at me, the green light intensifying, until the brightness blotted out my vision and the cavern dissolved beneath the sudden roar of water. When I opened my eyes, I had been transported somewhereelse. I stood on a rocky outcrop carved into the cliffside, where the sound of the waterfall nearly drowned out screaming. Where the scent of wet earth and brine almost masked the metallic tang of fresh blood. A single tear rolled down my cheek.
But as quickly as the vision came, it slipped away, dissolving like a dream. I blinked again, and I had returned to the near-dark of Imogen’s cave.
“I think you knowexactlywhat I mean.” She gestured at my pocket. “But if I need to spell it out for you, that will cost you your shells.”
The familiar anger that lived under my skin and on the edge of my tongue was back. She was trying to manipulate me, just like Mama had. The horn came to life, and a blood-red light shone from it, spilling over my hands and across my legs. My shells. That’s all she wanted. That’s why she lured me down here. It was all for her own gain.
I stood, framed by my growling wolves. “It’s time for me to go.”
All humor drained from the old woman’s face. “We had an agreement,” she asserted. “A story for a question.” She unfurled her long, bony fingers. “You must pay up.”
I turned, determined to leave. “I don’t need to ask you anything.”
“No?” she asked. “Not even how to remove your necklace?” The question slipped under my skin and found purchase there. When I turned back around a thin smile cut across her face. “Ah. How the tides have turned. Thereisan answer you seek, even if it is not the one you should be looking for.”
The cavern seemed to be listening. Even the steam had stopped swirling.
“You know how to remove my necklace?” I asked, and hated the way hope had slipped in.
