Chapter 48
Renata
A few nights later, Sybil and I are sitting on the back patio. We’re quiet, enjoying a glass of wine after dinner.
The easy comfort in silent moments is one of my favorite things about her. Sybil doesn’t try to fill every second with words, and she doesn’t question when someone is in their head. I understand why the other witches get worried when I zone out, but her company in the moments are appreciated.
“You and Archer did something,” she eventually says with a side-eye.
“What do you mean?” I ask. I try to hide the guilt from my tone, but she’s perceptive enough to catch it.
Archer and I agreed not to tell anyone about the Soul Tie Bond. We don’t want to fill anyone with empty hope or make them worry about our plans. No one is changing my mind.
We’ve silently agreed to not talk about when we will have to test our eye-for-an-eye theory.
Neither of us will ever be ready for it, and we shouldn’t wait forever.
A small, torturous spark of hope lives in my chest. If his death is what is meant to happen, then it will.
I don’t have to plan if the fates have already decided, so I refuse to rush into it.
Cordelia had decades of happiness, so why can’t I be granted a few years?
“I don’t know,” she admits wryly. “Something shifted in him. I can sense it, but I don’t know what. You do though.” She turns her knees toward me and meets my eye.
I look at her and consider how to handle this. “Why don’t you ask him?”
She shrugs and takes a moment to think through her words. “If he wants me to know, he’ll tell me. But I get the feeling it has something to do with you. And I just… I need you to know I’m glad he found you.”
My brows flick up in surprise, and I’m left speechless.
She continues, “Whatever happens isn’t your fault. We’re all victims to what our ancestors did a century ago. I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but I know my brother, and I am happy he found you.”
Swallowing past emotions, I grab Sybil’s hand and say, “I’m glad I found him too. All of you.”
Her eyes soften for a moment before she looks over my shoulder. I follow her line of sight but don’t see anything for a few seconds, until Archer comes around the corner and straight toward us.
“Let’s try a seance again,” he says as a way of greeting.
“What?” I squeak out, surprised and a little scared of his demand.
Sybil leans forward, still holding my hand and squeezes. “Back up and explain.” He opens his mouth before she quickly adds, “And ask.”
He rolls his eyes at her, but offers me an apologetic look.
“You tried to use a ouija board in a house full of spirits—you’re lucky you even got Petra,” he says.
He’s not wrong, but he isn’t winning us over.
He shakes his head and continues. “We need to talk to Barrett—we need to know what he said that night, if he’s even the one who casted the curse.
It’s better if you—” he points toward me “—have a vessel. Especially one with a connection to the spirit you’re summoning.
” This time, he runs a hand down the air in front of him.
Sybil and I share a long look. It’s clear she’s worried about my mental state and how my magic will handle another summoning on a grander scale. I offer her a slight nod and she blinks in confirmation. Her consent to this is as important as mine and his, or he would have made this plan without her.
“Are you positive you want to do this?” I ask him. “It’s a huge risk in any situation. Add in everything that comes with it being me, and the outcome could be fatal.”
My voice cracks on the last word and Sybil looks between us, probably questioning her initial agreement.
“If it kills me, then that’s how it happens. Problem solved,” he tries to joke, but it comes out dry, sad. I glare at him and he says, “In the best case scenario, we get more information about what happened that night. I want to know the truth, and so do you.”
I nod. I need to know the truth—something is still missing. Something important.
Standing from the step, I hold my hand out to him and lead us inside.
The entire coven is in the main den, setting up for the seance. I didn’t expect anyone other than Esme to agree to be a part of this. Not after last time. Rowyn and Clover didn’t hesitate.
Somehow, Clementine knew that her young magic would have its own benefits, and was able to convince Clover to let her participate. After the last time, I’m unsure if she should be here, but I trust Clover’s decisions with her sister.
We each have our own tasks. It will be similar to that night with the ouija board, except Archer will be inside the salt circle this time. The rest of us will clasp hands and form a barrier around it.
As I anoint his muscular chest with a variety of oils to protect him and ward off negative energies, I try to calm myself down.
It’s important I keep a clear head through this.
It can take a dangerous turn if I lose control, but I hate the idea of him being used like this—of being locked in there with who knows what.
He cups my jaw and tilts my head back. “It’s going to be okay. Whatever happens is up to the fates now.”
“To the fates that bind us,” I murmur sarcastically and look away, blinking back tears.
“To the fates that bound me to you,” he says and kisses me fiercely.
Neither of us are worried about our audience and I don’t feel their loving but teasing stares like I normally do.
Appreciating the privacy, I wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the contact, getting lost in his arms and scent.
He holds me close and takes his time, filling me with courage and determination, one brush of his lips at a time.
Once we break apart, everything else happens quickly.
Archer moves to the center of the room, and I pour the salt mixture around him. The other women begin to light the candles intentionally placed around. They each set the last ones down as I close the circle and stand back.
He is quiet, but looks open to whatever comes next, calm even.
Grabbing Sybil and Rowyn’s hand, everyone does the same and now we’re ready.
“Barrett Vexley, Divination Witch and love of Petra Blackthorn’s life,” I call out, making my intention of who we’re looking for clear. Maybe I’m trying to butter him up a little. “Te voco. Hoc vase utere et veritatem tuam dic. Te voco.”
Opening my eyes, I lead the other witches. We all say the incantation together three times.
On the last word, a few of the candles blow out, enough to make me nervous. Looking at Archer, he nods so subtly I’m not sure even Sybil noticed. I gulp down my fear and continue, repeating similar words to last time.
“We welcome the spirits of the Dreaming Willow Inn with good intentions. However, we’re looking for Barrett Vexley tonight,” I say, making our goal clear. “We have questions—we want to know his true history.”
We wait in silence for a few seconds. When I’m about to speak again, a few more candles blow out. I’m ready to call it off when Archer’s head twitches in an abnormal way and tilts to the side. His eyes are closed, but open quickly and look around.
When he stands straight, I recognize the stance and posture. I’ve seen Nestor’s mannerisms from my many hallucinations. He crosses his arms when Archer would have slid his hands into his pockets.
Confusion clouds everyone else’s expressions except for Sybil. She looks at me expectantly.
“Barrett?” I ask. “Are you here so we can talk?”
He looks around, confused. “I did not mean to come here—you summoned me. I want to leave this place. Gods, I want to leave!”
His voice grows in agitation, and I try to stay calm.
“I want to help you leave. All three of you,” I say. “The entire coven, if I’m understanding correctly.”
His eyes meet mine, but they’re cold—dead. “Leave that bastard for all I care.”
My mouth drops open. “Did you and Petra know about his affair?”
I mentally flip through what I remember from her journals.
I’ve read most of them a dozen times by now, but knowing about Nestor’s affair with Calista, there’s no evidence that makes me believe Petra knew.
She knew about his affections for Cassia before her death, and the guilt of her affair with Barrett, along with the heartbreak of not being with him, was practically eating her alive by the last entry.
“Not until it was too late,” he says with malice.
His eyes move behind me and he snarls, stepping forward but running into the salt barrier.
He bangs his hands against the invisible wall.
It holds firm. I look over my shoulder and see Nestor’s apparition in the corner.
He’s too far away to see his expression in the dark room, but his presence only angers Barrett.
“Nestor,” I call over my shoulder, holding tight to Rowyn and Sybil. “You need to leave. I’m sorry I brought him here bu—”
“Sorry you brought me?” Barrett spits out. “He should be the one apologizing—for ever coming back!”
“When did you find out?” I ask him. “What do you mean it was too late? Please, tell me anything—something to help us.”
“Petra and I learned about his cowardice the night of our deaths,” he seethes and paces around the circle. “He ruined everything—twice. Now, part of our souls are stuck in this godforsaken inn with his ghost. I cannot even enjoy the afterlife with my Petra because of him.”
“Why did the coven bind their souls to the inn?” I ask frantically.
The longer I hold the connection, I grow more and more tired.
My eyes are heavy and my lungs begin to constrict.
Even with the help of the coven, I’ve never expelled this much magic at once, and I haven’t been at my full capacity since arriving to Briarhollow.
“Why trap a part of yourself here forever?”