Chapter 16
Sixteen
IZZY
Iwake with a jolt, my head spinning.
For a few seconds, I’m disoriented, unable to remember where I am or how I got here. The last thing I recall is standing in the hallway of the covenstead with Ansel, Dyson, and Celeste. Then Michelle arrived and…
I blink, squinting at the soft, golden light filtering in through the curtains.
This isn’t my room in the covenstead. That one doesn’t have any windows, and this one is lined with them.
The air smells faintly of herbs and incense. I sit up, groaning as the room sways slightly, and brush at the cool, satin sheets. Slowly, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand, my knees shaky, my fingers grazing the wooden nightstand for support.
The room is beautiful—soft, muted colors, bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, delicate tapestries hanging on the walls. The massive four-poster bed is draped with deep red and black fabric, the color contrasting with the pale walls, visible beneath all the adornments.
Through the window, I can make out a garden—unlike any I’ve ever seen before. It isn’t the neatly manicured, perfect rows you’d expect to see. No, this is a wild, magical thing, brimming with life in every corner.
A stone path winds through the flowers, cracked and weathered with time, its edges softened by creeping ivy and moss.
The path leads to a small fountain in the center, its water flowing in a soft, melodic trickle I can hear even from here.
The stone of the fountain is worn smooth by years of use, and intricate runes are etched along its sides, glowing faintly under the soft, golden light of the setting sun.
Flowers grow in wild abundance, their colors vibrant and almost surreal.
Deep-purple foxgloves tower beside clusters of white lilies, their petals curling like delicate parchment.
Red roses with petals as dark as blood bloom alongside pale silver daisies, and there are flowers that I can’t recognize—glowing blue petals that shimmer in the light, and dark violet blossoms with an iridescent sheen that seem to hum with energy.
It’s like this garden has been tended by Hecate herself, transforming it into an ancient, living thing full of secrets. It’s both beautiful and eerie, like stepping into a dream where the line between the natural and supernatural worlds blurs.
I force my gaze away from the window and try to shake off the lingering dizziness, my stomach flipping with the feeling of something being…off. Like I’m missing a vital piece of the puzzle.
“You’re awake.” The voice breaks through my thoughts.
I whip around, my heart racing, and startle to find a familiar woman sitting at a desk in the far corner of the room, her long red hair cascading down her back like a river of fire.
The baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants combination makes her look like an entirely different person, but I’d know those piercing green eyes anywhere.
Soraya.
The Maiden.
She closes the book she was reading and stands, taking a single step closer to me. Though her eyes are alight with mischief, her expression remains unreadable, almost detached.
“Soraya?” I ask, rubbing at the back of my head.
The lingering remnants of a migraine batter my skull. I want nothing more than to close my eyes and sleep for years.
A tiny smile dances at the edges of her lips. “How are you feeling?”
“Confused. What happened? I remember—” I swallow hard, images flashing in my mind. Electricity. Michelle’s sneering face. Ansel’s anguished eyes.
And then I remember the pain—the way it felt as if my body was eating itself alive. Every nerve ending had been doused in gasoline and then lit aflame.
“Oh my god. In the hallway…” I choke back the panic that surges. “Is Ansel okay? What happened?”
But I already know the answer to that question.
I happened.
Soraya doesn’t speak for a long moment. Her gaze seems to shift around the room, like she’s gathering her thoughts.
Finally, she sighs, taking another step closer. “You’re far more powerful than even I suspected, Izzy.”
Her tone is calm, almost clinical, but there’s a strange edge to it that makes my skin prickle. I feel as if I’m a butterfly pinned beneath a microscope, something to be analyzed and picked apart.
“What does that even mean?” I snap, frustration bubbling up. “What happened back there? What did I do?”
I stare down at my hands as if I’ve never seen them before. On the surface, they look like my hands, don’t they? Those are my nails. That’s my scar.
But I’ve never known my hands were capable of such innate violence and destruction.
God, the things I did…
I swallow the burning lump in my throat.
I have magic.
Holy fuck.
I actually have magic.
Soraya cocks her head to the side, and for a moment, I think she might actually explain. But instead of answering one of the million questions rattling around in my mind, she gives a soft smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“You’ll need time to understand, but for now, you’re safe.” She turns to leave, her red hair sweeping behind her, and I automatically reach for her.
“Soraya! Wait. Please. Just…give me something. What I did… That wasn’t normal, was it?”
She pauses at the door but doesn’t turn back to face me. Rigid tension lines her neck and shoulders.
For a long moment, I don’t think she’s going to respond, but then she says, “No. That wasn’t normal. That’s all I can say. The rest you’ll have to figure out on your own.”
Then she’s gone, the door clicking shut behind her. I stare after her for a long moment.
There’s something about her, something she’s hiding…
And I’m pretty sure she left me alone on purpose.
Her words reverberate in my mind.
The rest you’ll have to figure out on your own.
Challenge accepted, Soraya.
I glance around the room, my gaze landing on her phone, abandoned on the nightstand.
No fucking way.
That can’t be an accident.
I grab it, half expecting it to explode in my face or for it to be locked. Surprisingly, there’s no passcode, which only amplifies my suspicion. Soraya wanted me to use her phone.
But why?
What would she get out of helping me?
I instantly click on the phone icon, but then pause, hesitating.
What are my mates’ numbers?
Hale! I’ll call Hale.
My fingers tremble as I dial Hale’s number and then press the phone to my ear. I hold my breath, not knowing what I want to say or ask, unable to articulate a single thought in my head. All I know is that I need to hear him. Need to know he—and the rest of my makeshift family—is okay.
The phone rings only once before he answers. “Hello?”
“Hale?” My voice shakes slightly.
“Izzy? Oh my god. Are you okay? I know the witches have you. Where are you? What’s going on? Tell me everything?” My foster father barely breathes between rapid-fire questions.
My heart clenches. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear his voice until just now. “I’m at the covenstead. No idea where that is. But is everyone over there okay? My…mates? Silas and Kyle? Lissa? Gerry? Seth and Jake?”
The last two weren’t even at the barbecue, yet I need to know.
“Everyone is fine,” Hale soothes. “I promise. We’re all just worried sick about you.”
I tighten my grip on the phone. “I’ll be able to see you on the weekend.”
“Which is a month in the covenstead.” Hale’s voice drops to a harsh reprimand, but I know he’s pissed at the witches, not me.
“Hale.” A cold shiver crawls up my spine, and I swallow. “Something happened here. Something that’s never happened before. I just got so mad and…”
There’s a long pause on the other end, and I’m afraid the call got disconnected.
But then Hale curses colorfully and says, “I was afraid that would happen.”
“Wait. What?”
“Izzy.” Hale’s voice turns urgent. “When you get back here, we need to—” Static. “He’s going to—” Static. “She didn’t want you to—” Static.
“Hale! Hale, you’re breaking up. Hale!”
Silence.
I glance at the phone in dismay, but the call has been dropped, and there are no bars. Whatever Soraya did to allow me that phone call, my time has run out.
Panic beats in my chest like a snare drum.
What was Hale trying to tell me? And where are my mates and friends? I should’ve demanded a better explanation. Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck!
I look around the room again. There have to be more answers here.
My gaze lands on a bookshelf, stacked with old, worn books.
I move towards the shelf and run my fingers along the spines.
Most of the titles are in a foreign language…
except for one. It’s the thicket volume and protrudes over the edge of the shelf, like it wasn’t meant to be put there in the first place.
Tentatively, I grab the tome and trace the gold lettering on the cover.
Creatures of Myth and Magic.
I flip it open, scanning the pages as I perch on the edge of the bed, the weight of the book in my lap. The very first entry discusses shifters—reiterating what Christian told me in his office when I discovered that the supernatural exists.
“What do you want me to find, Soraya?” I murmur as I gingerly flip through the pages.
Witches.
Vampires.
Banshees.
Reapers.
Gargoyles.
Golems.
It’ll take me days to finish this.
I hug the book to my chest as determination floods me.
I’ll read every last page of this book if that’s what it takes. Something’s happening to me, and Soraya… Hale… They all know what that something is.
I stare at the intricate symbols surrounding the text on the cover.
There’s no going back now.
With a deep breath, I open the book to the first page and begin to read.