I rock her a bit more, finally feeling her relax in my arms. “How about we go back and lie down together?” I ask. “You’ll feel better after a bit of sleep, and so will I.”
“Okay,” she whispers, nodding, but we make no move to get up.
“Sadie,” I say, pulling back so I can look into her eyes. “It’s not your fault.”
She nods, tears pouring down her cheeks. I cup her jaw and nod urgently, trying to impress the truth of my words into her soul. Eventually, she nods again, and I kiss her before wrapping my arms around her and squeezing her as hard as I can.
“We’ll get through this together,” I whisper. “I promise.”
Chapter 24 - Sadie
It’s just not enough.
For the hundredth time, I look across the table at the endless piles of old books. I know that I’ve scoured every single page and am no closer to a cure.
The potion I came up with to halt the disease has begun to falter. Along with caring for the sick people, I now have to deal with the pack’s trust in me beginning to fail again.
It’s very early in the morning, barely even dawn, and when I go out into the hall, I see Rhys collapsed on a chair next to one of the beds. He’s so exhausted that he fell asleep trying to comfort one of the ill. Fear and frustration rise in me like a fist made of fire.
I will not give up!
I walk quickly out to the parking lot, taking Rhys’s Viper into town. The museum has been closed since Fern became ill, and the place is as silent as a tomb. I use my own key to go inside. Driven by instinct more than determination, I hurry out back to the small stone room, running my finger along the shelf as I search through the old texts.
There is something here. I just know it.
Closing my eyes, I stop trying to think and just feel. I’m drawn towards the back of the room, which looks like a plain wall of stone bricks. I run my hand across it gently, feeling a layer of crumbly dust moving under my palm.
Then, suddenly, I feel a strange warmth in one of the bricks.
I run my hand up and down, confirming that all the surrounding bricks are cold and only this one is warm. It looks identical to the others. Only the temperature sets it apart.
Would anyone else have even noticed it? Is this a message just for me?
I push on the brick experimentally, and to my surprise, it gives, sinking back into the wall. There is a sharp click, then a grinding noise as part of the wall beside me moves out of the way, revealing a small, dark room.
You’ve gotta be kidding me.
I pull out my phone and use the flashlight to see. The room is tiny, with no electric light, and old books are stacked haphazardly on narrow shelves up and down the wall. The urge to explore the library is strong, but I’m pulled towards the back of the room where a thick, leather-bound book sits by itself.
I open the front cover and see the now-familiar cursive of Lynette Croft. I run my fingers over the letters of her name, awed by the title.
“Spells of wellness and healing, by Lynette Croft. May my sisters and daughters come to cherish this book and add their own spells to it as we bring harmony to this beautiful valley.”
She really was a witch!
I flip the book open. It seems to fall to a random page, but I see immediately that this is the spell I need.
Thank you, Lynette. I can almost feel your hand in mine, guiding me. Thank you.
A sense of urgency crackles in the air around me, and I know I have to get moving. I look again at the page, knowing thatthis ritual is the one I’ve been looking for, the one that can cure the disease.
And the page next to it has been ripped out. I wonder what happened to it?
The sense of urgency ripples over me again, and I grab the book, running from the museum back to the car. I don’t even think about where I’m going, I just drive straight out to the manor. The place feels as foreboding as ever, but I shove through the heavy front door, a faint trickle of fear running down my spine.
Something bad happened here.
To the left of the stone atrium is the hall that leads downwards to the council chamber and dungeon. A spiral staircase to the right leads to the upper floors, and right in front of me is an arched doorway. I can feel the council on the other side of it, and I grip the book even tighter as I stride up to the door and push it open.
