Chapter 49
Renata
The temperature in the room quickly drops, silencing all of us. Even Nestor in his agitated orb-state has calmed down and moves slowly around the perimeter of the room, close to the hallway.
The patio doors are thrown open, and a beautiful stranger walks inside, her hand open before she roughly slashes it through the air and closes her fist tightly.
My eyes widen, and I watch Archer’s soul float through the air, into her grip.
“No!” I scream, helplessly scratching at my own chest. Where his soul goes, mine now does too. “No, no.”
“Stupid girl,” the woman says and slowly walks closer. “Your mother always talked about you, how impulsive and stupid her daughter was.”
Wiping my eyes, I stare at her for a few seconds, confused. My mother talked about me. I know everyone my mother knows… Except for one.
My entire being switches into survivor mode. Even after months, it’s familiar and nauseating. My tears start to slow and my heart begins to race faster. I’m keenly aware of our new guest.
Slowly, I try to stand. It’s like a newborn deer finding balance for the first time, but some of my strength comes back as the adrenaline catches up.
“Calista,” I say, a hint of uncertainty. When the woman offers me a predatory smile, I say, “That soul doesn’t belong to you.”
“And you think it belongs to you?” Calista asks, taunting me.
“It does,” I say. “He’s my Chosen, we belong to each other.”
Esme and Rowyn gasp at the admission. I offer them each a quick glance, noting the surprise each of them are wearing. Even Sybil.
“You’ll follow him into the next life then. Like you promised,” she says with a predatory smile.
When Calista begins to walk around the room, I move around our circle, keeping myself between the succubus and my coven.
Esme, always so brave and loyal, is the first to stand.
She walks to my side, creating a barrier around Archer and Clementine.
Sybil is quick to follow, still crying, but it’s quieter now.
Rowyn follows, taking her place next to Esme. I hear Clover and Clementine argue behind me quietly until only the older Foxglove sister takes a place in our line.
With the exception of Hexate, who is slithering her way up my leg, the other familiars have positioned themselves behind Calista. All of them are predators other than Astra, but even she looks deadly and protective right now.
My coven—my family.
“I thought… I had sympathy for you,” I seethe. “I thought Nestor was the murderer.”
“Yes, after you considered it was Barrett. Maybe even Petra,” Calista replies in a bored tone. “You witches think so highly of yourselves, that you’re so much better than those ‘humans,’ as if you are not fickle beings at your core too.”
“What can we trade you for Archer’s soul?
” Rowyn asks, taking a small step forward.
I’m thankful for her bartering because I’m starting to feel like a trapped animal, ready to lash out.
I’m no longer the fearful, meek girl who ran away from her mother’s home.
Now I have a coven and a love to fight for—a future.
When Calista doesn’t say anything, only staring at Rowyn like she’s sizing up her prey, my pulse is all I can hear. My gaze jumps between the two of them, ready to step in before Calista can act.
Seemingly unfazed, Rowyn tries again. “That’s how things work with you, right? Is it whatever you take in exchange for everoot? Because we will give you that,” she says, waving a hand in front of the five of us.
“I don’t want your blood,” she says, happy to see our surprise at the price. Demons don’t require blood like vampires. I’ve never even heard stories of such a thing. Before I can consider other possibilities, she says with a saccharine smile, “I want Nestor. That’s a fair trade.”
We look around at each other. I move forward, staring at her for a long time.
Assessing the pros and cons of the situation.
At face value, it seems simple enough. Fair, even.
Calista is the murderer, the culprit for all the pain that Gray Witches in my family have experienced over the last century. And yet…
I still have sympathy for her.
Not enough to give up Archer or the one goal I’ve had since I received Cordelia’s letter—to end this fucking curse.
“I want Archer and for this stupid ‘curse’ to be removed.” Before Calista can say anything, I continue, “I understand why you want Nestor. It’s clear that no one, including Petra and Barrett, were fully innocent.
Archer shared your story with me, and I would want retribution too—not only for Nestor, but for every male who has scorned you. ”
The other witches’ eyes are on me, trying to follow along. The plan is still forming as I taunt her back.
A witch’s grudge is child’s play compared to a demon’s. I can use that.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t just take him,” I admit, mirroring the casual way she was walking around the room minutes ago. “He’s been here for a century.”
If I stop moving, everyone would see how badly I’m shaking. Holding back the fear in the face of danger is something I mastered a very long time ago, but I’m still lightheaded from contacting Barrett.
Calista snarls, looking around the room. That’s when I realize Nestor left. He’s hiding, leaving us to deal with his messes.
He truly is a coward.
Gods, I’ve gone through so many emotions regarding Nestor over the last two months, but resentment is beginning to take hold, clawing its way into my soul.
“The entire coven bound their souls to the inn,” she says impatiently.
“My powers have limits, unfortunately, and I can’t undo the spell.
So, I did the next best thing. I put the other half of his soul—the part that would have passed on—into the soil on the property as a way to keep him safe and grounded, making this his own personal hell. ”
My mouth drops open. It’s… It’s brilliant. Something a scorned witch would do.
“The soil…” Clover mutters behind me. “It’s rotting.”
Calista slowly looks at her, agitation starting to show. “Not exactly. It was an unexpected ramification.”
Even a demon is limited by the natural balances of the world.
Letting out a dry laugh, I pull her attention away from Clover and cross my arms. “Archer and I make sense then. Doppelg?ngers who come back together, bringing the coven back, just for him to watch it all fall again,” I say and squish my fingers together in a bratty blah, blah, blah gesture.
I hope it comes off much braver than I feel.
Calista looks downright amused by my arrogance. I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or not.
“What about Gemma? Cordelia? Why cast this curse on them too?”
“He got to watch his only child—the daughter he abandoned—fall into madness. He was present for her isolation and despair. Having to blame himself for that, as he should.” She shrugs and crosses her arms, looking quite pleased with herself.
“Why stop with her? Why not let him watch the entire Blackthorn line crumble?” She cackles.
“Then the stories that the town started to spin. It all worked out so much better than I could have ever hoped.”
“I don’t want to say I’m impressed,” Esme says, “but I am.”
I ignore Esme, but I am too.
Calista smiles in appreciation, and even that looks deadly.
“So, killing Archer won’t fix anything?” I ask, my brain already fitting new pieces together.
“No, dear girl,” Calista says, almost sympathetically.
Looking back at Archer’s body, I bite back a sob.
I’ll see you soon, I silently promise him. In this lifetime.
The lightbulb goes off, and my eyes flash to Calista.
“You will give me Archer’s soul and stop this curse,” I say with certainty. Calista raises her eyebrows and holds her hand up, reminding us who decides that. “No, you will. You told Archer he owed you a favor—one he hasn’t returned yet.”
Calista’s expression drops, morphing into anger with a hint of embarrassment.
Her exact quote was, You’ll be back, Archer Vexley. And you owe me a favor.
“If he’s dead, how will that happen? Like you said, your powers are as limited as our magic.
You can hold his spirit captive, but you can’t do anything with it,” I taunt.
“So how about this: we trade Nestor’s soul for the end of this wretched curse on my family’s line?
And I do us both the favor of resurrecting Archer? ”
Calista looks lethal in response to me gaining the upperhand. There’s a hint of intrigue underneath it all. “You’re ready to tap into that level of your magic? Really?”
Honestly? No.
For Archer, I’ll do it. I’d do anything to save him. To have a life with him.
A new rush of adrenaline runs through me. “Yes. Unbinding Nestor will be easy. I have practice with those types of spells.”
“You are willing to give me his soul? Truly?”
Looking away, I quickly blink back tears, sadness and guilt hitting me. My relationship with Nestor is complicated. Recently, I’ve begun to resent him. He was given many chances to do what was right, but his own desires were more important to him in the end.
With a resolute nod, I say, “Yes. No one else—no more women—should have to pay for his sins.”
Calista cackles, throwing her head back in anticipation. “I like you much more than your ancestors.”
Ignoring her, I look at Esme and Rowyn. “I only need two candles, a ribbon, and something that belonged to Nestor. It needs to be his.”
I’m trying to sift through everything we’ve found around the inn when Calista takes off one of her rings and hands it to me. “He never gave it to me. He left it on his way out.”
Looking down at the gold wedding band, I scoff and look up at her. She doesn’t say anything, thrusting it in my direction and turning away.
Esme and Rowyn come back into the room with the materials. I quickly set it up, keeping my eyes on Calista the entire time.
“Do you need help?” Esme asks, kneeling beside me.
Shaking my head, I say, “No, this will only take a minute. I’ll need you for what comes next.”
Understanding what next means, she nods and scoots back a foot.
Typically, I would need something from the person who he is bound to, but since it’s the inn, this has to be good enough.
I sit on the floor, and with shaky hands, I tie the ribbon around one candle, slide the ring onto it, then tie it to the other. I forgot to ask for a match, and usually a candle would be easy for me to light. Wasting even an ounce of my magic could be disastrous right now.
Without a word, Rowyn slides next to me and leans forward. With a small puff of air, it catches fire and I close my eyes. I shouldn’t need a spell for this.
Imagining myself breaking the bond, shown through the ribbon and candles, will be enough.
Taking deep breaths, I visualize Nestor’s bond being broken, ripped apart.
He’s trying to grab on and stay here, but my magic is stronger than his spirit.
Mentally reaching forward, I yank until I hear a loud snap.
My eyes fly open, one of my hands in the air, mirroring my thoughts, and I realize that sound wasn’t my imagination.
Nestor’s orb state is moving toward me quickly, but he’s trying to fight it and failing.
He throws himself into anything he can that hasn’t been knocked over yet.
Picture frames drop to the floor, the chandelier shakes above us, the sound of glass cracking comes from every direction.
I can faintly hear the other witches gasp and move around me.
Tuning them out, I only focus on Nestor. I don’t only unbind him from the Dreaming Willow Inn, but banish him.
When his incorporeal body manifests in front of me, I tell him in a somber, waning voice, “You are no longer welcome here, Nestor Blackthorn.” His body begins to fade, and he looks around frantically but can’t run anymore. “I’m sorry,” I whisper and close my eyes.
The wind around me blows, but it begins to warm the room. After a few seconds, I open my eyes and find Calista grabbing hold of Nestor’s soul at the same time she releases Archer’s.
“You don’t have long now,” she says, bored again. “ In case your Chosen didn’t tell you, every answer comes with a price. I will see your coven many more times in this lifetime.”
Without a backward glance, she throws something into the fireplace and a portal opens, showing the inside of her home. She stops to pick up Nestor’s wedding band and steps through.
Looking back at Archer, his soul seems fainter than when it was first passing on. The weight of everything—my mistakes, misunderstanding, and foolishness—come crashing down around me. I fall to my knees under the weight and crawl toward him.