Page 37

We reach the building of Haven’s next class, and she turns to me, reaching for the books in my arms. I turn away from her quickly, holding them out of reach.

“Not yet,” I say. Her dual-colored eyes flash with annoyance, and she growls at me.

“Cameron,” she snarls, glancing up and down the hall to make sure that we’re still alone now that we’re inside. She glares at me. “Give me back those books.”

“Promise me you’ll come.”

“Where?” she asks.

I give her a look. “Bishop Manor,” I tell her. “Don’t act like you don’t know where the rest of us stay when we’re not on campus.”

She kicks the floor and huffs. “You’re a freshman. You’re supposed to be in the dorms,” she mumbles.

“Will you come?” I demand.

Haven is quiet for a long time. I move closer and set her books on a nearby table. Then I remove the books from her arms as well and set them down. Without any protective barrier keeping me from getting close, my chest brushes hers as I press her into the wall between two light sconces. Reaching beneath her jaw, I tuck a finger against her chin and force her to lift her head.

“Regardless of what you think of us, Haven,” I tell her solemnly, “you need us. There are things happening to you that we can provide answers to.”

Her gaze is a haunting dissonance—one eye the color of honey and the other a viridescent shard. They’re full of secret darkness and fear that I doubt she realizes she wears like a cloak. Unlike the others, I was the one who delved into her past. I know about her parents’ deaths. I know about the countless therapists. The nightmares—not nightmares at all. My words aren’t meant to frighten her, but I hope they do. I hope she takes them to heart, because if she isn’t scared of what she can do, then it will be so much fucking worse when we tell her who she is.

“Cameron.” She’s breathless. “I…”

“You have dark dreams.” The words echo in the silence. “Strange things have happened around you in the past. Lights burning out suddenly. Doors or windows slamming shut, but no one is there and you know it’s not the wind.”

Unnatural, the green eye flares like a flame behind glass. The gold eye pulses with a steady beat. The Gods made her perfect, I realize. They gave her the air of a cursed oracle—half tethered to the earth, half claimed by the Veil. Broken, but fierce, she gazes back at me, waiting for me to finish stripping her of her secrets.

“You see things in your mind that scare you. It’s as if there’s another you, deep in your soul. She’s trying to claw her way out and you can’t contain her anymore, but she frightens you.”

Her pupils expand with each word, drowning out the color of her irises until only the thinnest of rings are visible around either eye. I release her chin to cup the side of her neck and bend my head. I kiss her temple.

“You think you’re going insane.” I keep going when she doesn’t stop me or deny my words. “Ghosts and monsters in the dark aren’t supposed to exist, but you see them every time you close your eyes.”

They were the very same things we all experienced when we came into our powers. For her, though, it’ll be doubly hard. There is a reason the other covens have avoided ours for so many centuries. A coven without a priestess is no coven at all. They are rejected by the divine. A priestess is needed for true power. A female witch is the conduit through which we are all connected. Without one, a coven is a dying branch, shriveling up as each winter passes and slowly withering into nothing.

“You’re not alone, Haven.” My voice lowers until it’s barely a whisper. “Not anymore. We just want to help.”

Haven’s hand lands on my chest and she pushes me back slightly. Her eyes are hazy, slowly clearing as if she’s mentally driving away the spell of my words. She shakes her head and I know I’ve lost.

“I have to go,” she says, turning away from me and gathering up her books.

“Haven,” I try again, in vain, in hope.

“I’m sorry, Cameron.”

I watch her go, a sinking sensation clutching at my gut and dragging my emotions deep into the abyss. With a bitten-out curse, I turn away and stomp down the hall. Halfway to the exit, one of the lights along the wall pops and cracks, going out. I stop.

Damn it. I have to get better control of my emotions.

Maybe Ezra is right. Maybe forcing Haven into our coven isn’t the right choice, but what other option do we have? Without her, our coven ends with us. We all know that. Ezra’s anger and rejection of her isn’t about her at all. It’s about them. It’s about his past—all our pasts.

I scrub a hand down my face and continue on my path until I step outside, and just as expected, Reyes is waiting for me. Arms folded and with his back against the opposite stone wall. He lifts his head and eyes me.

“That went well.” Reyes’s caustic tone holds an untold amount of disappointment and frustration. It’s no surprise that he saw her reaction. His visions, when he is able to see them, are never wrong. Just like my father’s.

“She’s not ready.” My voice is flat, monotone. I’m repressing all my own negative emotions so as not to set off another light in the vicinity without trying.

“Ready or not,” Reyes replies, glancing past me to the building I’d just come from, “the truth is going to find her. She can run, but there’s no hiding from the power in her blood.”