Chapter 51
Archer
Standing in the eastern field, I watch Petra’s rage and heartbreak take over.
“This is your fault,” she tells him and points a finger at Nestor’s chest. “All of it! You bastard.” She shoves him, and he almost trips over his own feet. “Everything that has happened is because of you!”
He reaches for her, but she pulls away. A loud crack breaks through the air at the same second a portal opens a few meters away.
Petra falls to her knees as she lets out a guttural scream, and Nestor stands in front of her, protecting her from someone.
Calista.
She steps through the tree line and I catch the shimmer of her portal only a few feet behind her.
“Nestor, my love,” she croons, “I have been looking for you. You were smart to never disclose the exact location of this inn.”
He spits on the ground between them, putting his body in front of Petra’s crumpled form. “You compelled me, you whore!”
Her mouth twists into a sneer. “You wish for your beloved Petra to believe that. We both know that is not the truth, pet. You chose to leave your wife and the ill witch. You left her here, pregnant and alone, practically pushing her into the arms of the man you were already so envious of. Do not lie to her,” she demands in a booming voice.
Petra screams and grabs at her neck like she can’t breathe.
“Your true crime was stealing from me,” she continues, back to her saccharine voice. “You know the price for everoot—you were a bystander for more than one seeking soul. I have come for that price, Nestor Blackthorn.”
“Fine, I will go with you. You can take me or kill me,” he offers in a desperate voice. He falls to his knees. “Petra is innocent. Please…”
“We both know I cannot take what I truly desire from here—your soul.” Her rage grows, manifesting as a dark inky shadow growing behind her. “I have a different idea.”
“Wha–what are you talking about?” Nestor pleads.
There’s genuine regret and fear on his face—and something tells me it’s the first time he’s felt that way since leaving the Dreaming Willow Inn.
Anger burns in my gut at the realization of how truly selfish of a man Nestor was. Renata has spent so much time trying to save his guilty soul.
“I will get my payment, and my fun,” Calista taunts with a predatory smile.
Before Nestor can say anything, she squeezes her hand in the air and twists.
Petra’s sobbing immediately stops and she falls to the ground, silent and… dead.
Her eyes are open, staring up at the moonlit sky, but they’re vacant. Somehow, the sadness is still there.
Shouting comes from behind me and there’s the faint outline of a man running toward us—Barrett, no doubt.
“You will spend centuries here, filled with the guilt and shame of your life. You will watch your daughter’s mind deteriorate, and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.
Then one day,” she says and steps forward, “You will have to bear witness to them falling in love again. And again. And again. In time, there will be two people who wear their faces and whose souls are tied just as deeply. This time, you will not be able to run away like the coward you are.”
“Petra! Nestor!” Barrett yells as he sprints closer.
Nestor makes the mistake of turning to look back at his friend, and dead wife because the next second, he’s face down on the muddy ground.
With a flick of her wrist, the blood drains from his body and she collects it in a jar at her hip. It’s as large as a pitcher, and she fills it up to the very top.
Barrett drops to his knees by Petra’s body, sobbing and cursing at the succubus.
“Do not blame me, boy,” she snarls in annoyance. “I was only taking what was owed after my lover abandoned and stole from me.” She gestures down to Nestor in disgust before turning back to her portal.
“Nestor…?” Barrett asks, looking down at his dead friend but pulling Petra’s body protectively toward him. “Lover? Does that mean… He did not… He would not…”
His eyes meet Calista’s, and she raises her eyebrows, waiting for him to understand how selfish Nestor truly was.
“That fucking bastard,” Barrett curses before tilting his back and violently sobbing over Petra’s body.
“I agree,” Calista muses and walks toward him. “Unfortunately for you, my new plan of revenge requires your death as well.”
“Wha–”
His words cut off with a snap of Calista’s fingers, and he falls limply over Petra’s body.
Assessing the mess of corpses in front of her, she scrunches her nose like they’re a pile of dirty dishes she forgot about. She doesn’t take the blood of Petra or Barrett, but she does call her hogs through the portal.
“Hm,” she thinks out loud. “Why don’t you boys take that one? More meat on him.” She points at Barrett’s body, and ropes made of smoke appear.
Four large hogs take the ropes and pull Barrett’s corpse back to her island. I swallow down bile, remembering how Calista said her pets came to her already potty-trained… In human bodies.
Calista steps up to Nestor’s husk of a corpse and opens her hand. I hadn’t caught sight of his spirit until now, but she doesn’t hold onto it. She gently blows the small orb like a dandelion, spreading his soul through the air. Glowing sparks break apart and bury into the soil.
Agitation dances across her features when she notices the soil beginning to change where Nestor’s husk of a body lies.
Looking down, I realize why it looks like the same dirt from her garden.
She not only killed on this property, but she infused the very earth with her dark magic. The Dreaming Willow Inn was used as a vessel for the other half of Nestor’s soul that would have passed on.
In the last century, witch blood has never been spilled on this soil… or we would have our own everoot field.
When she gets to the tree line, she pauses and looks over her shoulder. Her eyes meet mine and I gasp in surprise. She winks and reminds me, “I’ll see you soon, Archer Vexley,” then disappears.
Gasping, I wrench myself into a sitting position.
“Archer,” my sister says from somewhere nearby but my attention is on the limp body next to mine.
Not again, I think to myself as I take in Renata.
She’s sprawled out next to me, lying in a puddle of blood and hardly breathing.
Leaning away from her, I start heaving and close my eyes, trying to imagine anything other than the scene next to me. All that comes back is the memory of what happened that night—the murder of three witches after a long, complex history together—and I vomit all over the floor.
Sybil reaches me and pats my back until I finally stop.
Turning back to Renata, a guttural sound rips from my chest. “What the fuck happened?” I ask and look around frantically. “Why am I awake and she’s—she’s…?”
“She’s alive,” Rowyn says and scoots forward. “It’s only been about five minutes. She wouldn’t let you… She couldn’t let you…”
She trails off, unable to say the words. I know what she means.
Renata wouldn’t let me die.
With a deep breath, I reach to run a hand down her hair, but notice the still bleeding cut. There are bloody handprints all over me, and each of their hands are bandaged too.
Gingerly, Rowyn leans forward and reaches for my palm. I let her have it and watch in silence as she cleans and wraps it.
“Thank you,” I say in a low, raw voice. “Not just for the bandage but for—” I wave my hand around the room “—all of it.”
“We’re a family,” Clementine says in a small voice from her sister’s side. “We protect each other.”
Pulling Renata into my lap, I nod and smile tiredly at her. “Still—I quite literally owe each of you my life. I don’t take that lightly.” My eyes drop down to her pale face. “ Neither will Renata.”
“We sacrificed Nestor,” Rowyn says in a rush. My eyes widen. “At least, I think that’s what happened.”
Looking around at the destroyed room, I ask, “What the fuck happened?”
“Barrett was here, then he wasn’t. Then you—you died,” Rowyn says, her panic growing as the adrenaline crashes. “Then Calista walked in, from Gods know where.”
“Calista was here?” I look around. “Why?”
Esme places a hand on Rowyn’s shoulder and says, “She came in and tried to steal your soul. Renata bartered with her. Technically, we didn’t trade your soul for anything. Renata ended the curse, cast by Calista, in exchange for Nestor’s soul.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, closing my eyes and shaking my head.
Sybil speaks next. “Renata outsmarted her, Archer. Apparently, Calista told you she would be seeing you soon, that you owed her a favor.” I nod. “Renata realized that your life was more important to her than your spirit. But Nestor’s life was what she always wanted.”
“Because he bound his soul to the inn,” I mutter, processing so many answers as quickly as I can. Everything I’ve learned in the last hour makes sense, but I’m still fitting most of the pieces into their spots. “All of the witches did.”
Esme says, “I don’t know how she knew to come here though.”
My mind races, going back to my visit with her. When she placed her finger on my lips, I thought that was her way of compelling me. It wasn’t. Her words were enough… That didn’t just feel like a brand. It was one.
“I think I do,” I say. “She’s been watching me since I left that island.”
I think she still is.
Less rushed, Esme and Rowyn explain everything that happened after the seance.
The amount of magic Renata used tonight is unheard of in modern times.
Magic isn’t as raw as it was centuries ago, but Renata was able to tap into something ancient to perform three different rituals within the span of a couple of hours.
Hexate’s bite sounds like something out of supernatural folklore. Familiars hold some of our young magic, bonding them to us and keeping that excess in check. It’s why our magic is considered to be mature once we find our familiar. Their touch, and even their blood, can enhance a spell or ritual.
Her venom though?
In the hundreds of books I’ve read, it’s never been documented. I doubt Renata and Hexate were the first bonded pair to perform that magic transfer, but it’s not something this world has seen in centuries.
Looking down at Renata, I wonder what else our ancestors have in store for us—which unknown enemy of theirs will knock on our door next. It’s only the tumultuous start for this coven.
Sybil shakes her head. “There was never supposed to be a price or cure. Not until Renata weaseled one out of her.”
I let out a dry laugh and look down at my Chosen, running a hand over her head. She’s warming slowly.
Quickly, I tell them about the memory I was shown before waking up. Tears fill each of their eyes, and I expect Renata to be even more distraught about the truth of that night.
“If there’s one thing she values, it’s honesty,” I say. “I think it was Calista who showed me the memory. When she was walking away, she turned and talked to me.”
Sybil asks, “What did she say?” There’s concern and protectiveness laced into her words. I know she has regrets about coming to Briarhollow, but I don’t.
I wanted a coven for her. Instead we found a family for both of us.
“That she’d be seeing me soon,” I admit with a shrug.
A sober mood cloaks the room as the women have the same realization I did: this is only the beginning.
“Renata said there is enough everoot here for two small tonics,” I remind them. “So, whatever favor I owe, I am willing to pay her price. As well as any other that may threaten this coven.”
None of them look certain their lives are worth it. I am.
Suddenly, Renata gasps and flies into a sitting position. Her eyes open wide and she gasps for breath.
“Shh,” I soothe and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her into my body. “We’re all here. You’re okay now, Little Wisp.”
She looks around, cataloguing each of our faces as she calms down and settles against me. Her body is shaking violently and her breathing is erratic still, but she’s awake.
“You’re here,” she says, looking up at me with tears.
“I am, and I have you to thank for that.”
She wraps her arms around me and cries. Eventually, she moves from my lap to hug and thank each of the other women. She and Sybil fall into an emotional embrace for a long time. Neither says anything, but so much passes between them.
When she sits back in my lap, Rowyn cleans and bandages her hand while we fill her in on the details of my resurrection, and the memory Calista shared with me.
Just as expected, she cries at the knowledge her ancestors were with her tonight, and the truth about Petra’s death. Renata’s less surprised by Hexate’s part in the resurrection. It’s nothing they’ve performed, but she has wondered how Hexate’s venom would be different from a normal rattlesnake’s.
I hold her in my lap the entire time, still in the mess of the salt circle, while we process what happened tonight and what it means for the future. None of us are positive, but we all agree that there’s more to come. It’s thrumming in our blood.