“Tides,” Romie exclaimed, “that’s what I saw! Last night, you were in the place where I normally see dreams. Except you weren’t dreaming—you weren’t asleep at all. You werescrying, weren’t you? Wherever your third eye travels to when you scry—the astral plane, right?—it must be the same as the place where dreams are.”
The sleepscape. The astral plane. A realm beyond realms, full of unseen possibilities.
“Your face transformed,” Romie continued. “You were you one second and a boy the next—a boy who then turned into a beast. You think he’s from another world?”
“Yes,” Aspen breathed wistfully.
It dawned on Emory that Aspen might actuallywantto go with them through the door. To find this boy she shared an inexplicable connection with.
But it seemed the woods had roots in her that would not let her go.
“I can’t go with you,” Aspen reiterated. “But my offer stands. Do you want my help or not?”
Emory and Romie exchanged a wordless conversation. They wanted out: here was their out. Whether the door led forward to the next world or back to their own remained to be seen.
The sun had almost set when the three of them headed into the garden with provisions for the road. The inside of Amberyl House had been eerily quiet. The outside was quieter still. Not a single witch in sight.
Aspen blanched as they reached the garden gate. It was open, and lying before it was an unconscious Mrs. Amberyl.
“Mother!”
Emory readied her healing magic, but the High Matriarch’s eyes were already blinking open as Aspen knelt beside her. In a daze, she sat up, hand coming away bloodied from a wound on the back of her head.
“What happened?” Aspen asked, voice pitched high in worry.
“They took her,” Mrs. Amberyl muttered faintly, clutching something to her chest. She repeated herself, stronger now, as Aspen helped her to her feet. “They took Bryony.”
As if on cue, a cry pierced the night, deep in the woods.
Mrs. Amberyl tore toward the sound without a moment’s hesitation. Emory saw what she’d been clutching as it fell from her hand.
A pale green ribbon, flecked with blood.
They raced through the woods in a panic. It had gotten dark enough that it was hard to see anything, but both Mrs. Amberyl and Aspen seemed to know exactly where they were going.
They found Bryony at the site of the ascension, surrounded by at least half the coven. She’d been gagged and bound against the yew tree. A circle of white powder had been drawn around her, complete with small animal bones and skulls and candles that flickered in the breeze.
They were clearly going to try to exorcise the demon out of her.
“You fools,” Mrs. Amberyl breathed.
Bryony cried around her gag as she spotted her sister and mother. The two boys from earlier held Mrs. Amberyl back, and a few other witches stepped in to keep Aspen, Emory, and Romie away from the circle. The sour-faced Hyacinth stared down Mrs. Amberyl. “You know it must be done, Hazel.”
“You gave me until the black moon to handle the matter my way.” Mrs. Amberyl flung a hand out to Emory and Romie. “They are the ones who need to be purged from—”
“Be quiet, Hazel. The problem is your hellwraith of a daughter. We all saw her at the ascension, and what my boys witnessed today…”
Emory blanched. So her Glamour hadn’t lasted after all.
“I understand this need to protect your daughter, I do,” Hyacinth continued, “but as High Matriarch, your duty is to the coven first.” The witch squared her shoulders. “Since you won’t do what needs to be done, we will.”
As one, the coven began to chant. The flames around the circle intensified. Bryony screamed, her head tilting up to the skies. Mrs. Amberyl and Aspen fought against the witches who held them back as Bryony’s screaming grew to a crescendo—and suddenly stopped.
When Bryony looked at them, her eyes were entirely black, just like they’d been during her ascension.
With an unnatural jerk of her neck, she twisted out of her gag. When she spoke, it was in that deep voice that was not hers.
“Where is it? I can feel it on you—where is it?”
