Chapter Thirty-Two
Walker
A fter agreeing to meet us at the apartments later, Ryder shifted into his wolf form and jetted into the forest toward the wolves’ territory. He wanted to warn his pack of our plans to strike against the High Witch. As he bounded out of sight, Freya did not move. She stared at seemingly nothing at all, and her gaze lacked its usual fire. I tried to squash my concern.
“Freya?” I asked. “Shouldn’t we get going?”
She snapped back into the present and forced a smile.
“Right,” she agreed. “Arion, shift.”
As Arion transformed into a majestic black stallion, Cady eyed Freya.
“Are you good, Coven Mother?” she asked.
Freya shook herself. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Let’s go.”
I wanted to press her on the issue, but it wasn't my place. We climbed onto Arion’s back and raced across the mountain, to the apartments. The cold stole my breath, but the ride lasted only seconds. We pulled to a stop in the grassy training field behind the towering, black apartments. I leaped off Arion on shaky legs and helped my sister back to her own two feet. As soon as Freya dismounted, Arion shrank into a calico cat.
Together, we approached the apartments. The moon hung high in the sky, though clouds blocked its shine. Short, ornate streetlights lit a path outside the buildings, but one’s light was burned out.
Right, I thought, I did that.
Though I wasn’t a master of magic, somewhere along our journey, I had stopped hating the power that brimmed under my skin. I had even become grateful for its ability to protect those I loved rather than loathe it for its capacity to do harm.
I hoped Dad would grow to feel the same about his newfound power.
As we walked toward the eastern apartment, where the medical wing was, I couldn’t help but notice how the lighting highlighted the dark circles under Freya’s eyes.
“You’re feeling up to this?” I asked.
She pointed toward the nearly full moon. “That will strengthen the spell in a way the sun will not.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” I argued. “You shouldn’t attempt something so major without plenty of power.”
The last time Freya transformed a man into a warlock, the spell had left her completely and utterly drained. If she was going to attempt the spell again, she at least needed to be at peak strength.
“I’m fine,” Freya assured me.
From between the apartment complexes, Gloria approached. The Elder was dressed in her velvet robes and wore a puzzled frown. She clasped her wrinkled hands in front of her.
“Is it done?” Gloria asked. “Did you deliver the creature to the High Witch?”
Cady grimaced. “Kinda?”
The Elder’s frown deepened, and Freya sighed.
“We need to talk,” Freya said.
Without another word, Gloria led us into the eastern building, into the elevator, and to her suite on one of the top floors. When we entered the large space, I barely contained my surprise.
The great and powerful Elder was messy.
Trinkets, ceramics, and books cluttered the coffee table, cabinets, and antique chest of drawers. Pillows and quilts overwhelmed the leather sofa and set of cozy chairs. Jars of various herbs and ingredients lined the white countertops of the kitchen, and dishes filled the stainless-steel sink.
“Was this how you imagined her home?” Cady whispered.
I snickered and shook my head, and Freya smirked.
“I know, right?” Freya replied.
When Gloria glared at us, we silenced ourselves.
“Have a seat,” Gloria said and gestured toward the living room. “I’ll brew us some tea and make some snacks. I grow tired of listening to your stomachs growl.”
After we cleared ourselves space on the couch, we rested our feet while Gloria bustled around in the kitchen. I wanted to offer to help, but her magic buzzed, and I figured I would be more of a nuisance than an aid for whatever she concocted.
With a snap of her fingers, the mess on the wooden coffee table disappeared and platters of meat, cheese, crackers, and fruit replaced it. As we dug into the food like animals, Gloria handed each of us a cup of tea and sat in one of the chairs facing the couch.
Freya scarfed down a few more bites of food, took a deep breath, and recounted everything that had happened to the Elder. Gloria listened to all of it with unreadable coolness. Once Freya was finished, I prepared myself for an argument or a lecture on how we had already broken too many rules.
“Okay,” Gloria said. I failed to hide my surprise. “Don’t worry about telling the others. I’ll gather the coven for the spell to transform Clyde.”
We stared at her in stunned silence. Even Cadence stopped shoveling food in her mouth to gawk. Gloria studied my sister and softened. The Elder gently lifted Cady’s dropped jaw. When Gloria’s gaze returned to Freya, her gray eyes blazed with anger.
“I do not care what court or coven the High Witch belongs to.” Power thickened the Elder’s voice. “No one harms our young without consequences.”
Freya leaped off the couch and into the Elder’s arms. After a moment of shock, Gloria hugged her back with the fierceness of a mother’s love.
“You did the right thing, Coven Mother,” Gloria said. “The High Witch has overstepped her bounds, and something must be done before her power continues to grow unchecked.”
Freya pulled back, and Gloria tucked one of her curls behind her ears.
“Besides,” the Elder continued, “the wolves are the ones who showed up to help us in a time of crisis, not Cordelia. She may be our Leader, but she only holds the title because we will it so. No more will we cower in fear of making a splash. It is time to take a stand. It is time to show her what it means to be a part of the Coven of Hecate.”
“Hell yes,” Cady agreed.
“Language,” I chided.
“Thank you, Elder,” Freya whispered. “Thank you for believing me.”
Gloria smiled, and Freya returned to her seat on the couch. The Elder took a slow sip of her tea, and I noted her guarded expression.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” I asked.
Gloria smirked. “Isn’t there always?”
Her jaw stiffened with seriousness, and she focused on Freya.
“We discovered something while you were away,” Gloria said. “You know Josephine’s apartment has remained mostly untouched, but Lyra and I thought in the face of everything, it would be worth exploring. She left an astral projection behind.”
Freya was taut as a bowstring.
“And?” Freya asked. “What did it say?”
Gloria swallowed. “We couldn’t see it. She bespelled it to be shown only to you.”
???
Freya
As I rode the elevator up to my goddessmother’s apartment, I couldn’t stop shaking. Arion coiled himself around my legs, but even the touch of my familiar failed to calm my racing heart. The organ beat so quickly, it hurt. My eyes stung, and unrelinquished sobs ached in my throat, but I held back the tears like my life depended on it.
You cannot break down, I reminded myself. You cannot break down.
Too much depended on my strength.
As I stepped onto Josephine’s pristinely white floors, the dirt I trekked in distracted me from the tightness of my chest. I imagined Josephine chiding me for the mess.
Dearest, were you raised in a barn? I possess earth magic, but I am not an earth worm. Sweep that up now, and I’ll make us some tea.
I buried the fondness that swelled in my heart and approached the narrow hall that led to her bedroom. Even in the dim light, the harsh lines and contrasting black and white aesthetic gave me a headache, though my goddessmother had loved nothing more than her dramatic color scheme. Arion nudged my calf, and I realized I had stopped.
“Gloria said the message is waiting for me in Jo—in her bedroom,” I said. “I’ll make the rest of the journey alone.”
Arion meowed and circled me in protest. I reached down to scratch him behind his orange and black ears.
“I’ll be okay,” I promised and willed the words to be true.
As I walked toward the white door that led to Josephine’s bedroom, I wished Walker was beside me, but he had taken his sister to their quarters to shower and rest. I didn’t begrudge him for it. What I told Arion was true—this was a task I had to face on my own.
I still wished he was here, if only to wait outside the door for me.
Witches don’t believe in love, Walker had said. You’ll never feel what I feel.
If anyone was to blame for his absence, it was me, though I wasn’t sure how exactly. Had I strung him along? Was that where my guilt lay?
Or had I failed to correct his false assumption?
“Quit stalling,” I muttered to myself and turned the doorknob.
I stepped inside Josephine’s bedroom, and my breath caught.
It was exactly as my goddessmother had left it.
The white comforter was as fluffy as ever, and the black throw pillows were spotless. Josephine’s magic hummed in this place, even after months of her absence. Her magic repelled every dust mote, and covered every inch of her plush white carpet, unlit lamp, and sleek glass vanity.
Moonlight poured in from the window behind her grand bed, but I snapped my fingers, and the sparkly bedside lamp came to life.
In its shine, I spotted a delicate music box sitting on the vanity. Its intricate carvings and signs of age were at odds with the rest of the pristine apartment. Thin cracks lined one of the music box’s corners and its golden latch was tarnished. As I approached it, Josephine’s magic hummed louder from inside. It buzzed against my skin in greeting.
I swallowed.
Carved into the music box was the Goddess herself. Her three faces stared at me with empty, white eyes. I reached for the box’s golden latch, and something pricked my finger. I hissed, but where my blood stained the latch, it glowed. The music box swung open, and there she was.
Josephine.
I stumbled back from her projection, which flickered and glowed at the edges, but undeniably depicted my goddessmother. Those were her Moonflower green eyes and her red lips. She wore a skimpy gown that outlined her thin figure, and jewelry bedecked her ears, neck, wrists, and fingers.
For a heartbeat, she looked at me with such love, I wondered if maybe she had survived—maybe that monster from the spring had been a farce, and this was the real Josephine.
“Dearest,” she crooned.
The astral projection flickered, and I remembered this was simply a message. My Josephine was gone.
She had been gone since the day she killed my mother.
The Bloodblade’s power had not tainted this spell, nor had the Embracement of all those witches. The magic shining on me now was all Josephine’s. I recognized it as easily as I recognized the lingering scent of her Chanel perfume.
Though I hated myself for it, I burst into sobs, and not ones of anger or hurt, but sobs of pure, unadulterated grief.
“Why?” I asked her. “Why did you have to do all those terrible things and leave me? Why did you have to take Mom?”
“If you’re seeing this,” Josephine continued, “I must be dead. Such a pitiful thing. I was determined to outlive Gloria, the old bat.”
I hiccupped a laugh and remembered this was a recording. If Josephine had seen me sob like a young witchling, she would’ve mocked me ruthlessly, until I had laughed so hard, I would’ve forgotten the reason for my tears.
“I digress,” Josephine said and waved her arm in such an utterly Josephine way. “This is not some sentimental call from the beyond to tell you I love you and hold you dear, even in Summerland. I trust you are smart enough to know that already.”
My Goddess, this hurts.
“Though you’re a mere witchling of only eight years,” Josephine continued, “I must tell you. I must warn you. You’re the future Coven Mother, dearest.”
Shock washed over me. I had thought this would be something recorded in response to what had happened leading up to the Blood Moon, but this was from much longer ago.
No wonder Josephine is still looking at me with love.
“Your mother is dallying in something dangerous,” Josephine said. Her words pulled me from the clutches of grief. “I told Sybil not to mess with the chimera, but she didn’t listen. She never does, you know.”
The last bit was said affectionately, not with the bitter hate that had coated Josephine’s last words.
Of course Josephine knew about my mother’s dealings with the chimera.
They had once been inseparable.
“But this goes beyond your mother,” Josephine said. “This goes beyond even the High Witch. Cordelia's solution will not work. It has always been a mere bandage, but…dearest, there is a change in the air. In the new roots springing from the earth. The sorceress cannot wake, and she cannot inhabit the chimera…I can’t say too much. Even in the comfort of my own wards, I fear the High Witch hears me.”
Josephine took a steadying breath. “I am sorry to pass my burdens on to you, but I trust your mother and I have made you strong enough to shoulder them. The High Witch Cordelia cannot have the chimera and neither can the sorceress. You must protect her just as your mother has. Where my spirit still thrives, I’ve left you the information you need. Wield it carefully.”
Mom really did protect the chimera.
Josephine’s eyes turned glossy.
“You are the best of us, dearest.” She swallowed. “Because of that, I entrust to you my most guarded secrets. There is a newly born witch of my blood. She is a Reid—shocking, I know—but she will surpass even me in power. Her earth magic…her power will be essential in stopping the sorceress. You must protect this Reid witch, dearest, at all costs, until she is strong enough to stop the Reawakening.”
“Sorceress?” I whispered in confusion. “Cadence is supposed to stop a sorceress?”
What in Hecate's name was a sorceress?
Josephine’s projection flickered, and she cursed.
“My music box is nearly full,” Josephine said. She reached out, as if to touch me, then remembered herself and sighed. “I promised not to blubber sentiments, but, dearest, you are the thing I love most. Now, make me proud and figure out your earth magic. Goodb—”
Josephine’s winked out of existence, and I sank to the floor.
That message had been old. It had been made when she still loved me.
I had almost forgotten what it felt like, to be loved by Josephine.
I had forgotten how she could always make me feel ten-feet-tall and invincible. Experiencing her love was a rush. It was a high greater than any power or spell.
I rushed to the music box and pricked my finger again. And again. And again.
Nothing happened.
“Goddessdammit,” I hissed. “Play it again. Please, please play it again.”
Blood stained the music box, but the room was still and empty except for me. As I lost my goddessmother again, I crumbled under the weight of my despair.
I had never been more alone. Mom was gone, and Josephine was gone, and everything was so unforgivably unfair—
The door clicked open, and a calico bundle of fur jumped into my arms. A tall shadow hung over me, and familiar magic cleared my muddled thoughts.
“Freya?” Walker said.
“She’s gone,” I whispered. “She’s gone again.”