Chapter Forty-One
Walker
C ordelia jerked away from Freya and pointed her pale, spindly fingers behind her. In front of her empty throne, the marble stones of the floor shifted. A rectangular hole formed in the ground, but it was quickly filled by a rising slab of obsidian. On it and wearing a simple white shift, Elle laid completely still, except for the small rise and fall of her chest.
My gaze shot to Freya. Her copper eyes were wild with confusion. Magic zapped between us once again, and we both quickly looked away. If the High Witch knew even an ounce of our magic could work while in these horrific cuffs, she would surely entrap us in something more terrible—something like what she had done to Elle.
Nothing visible kept Elle contained to the obsidian dais, but something was clearly off about her. For one, she wasn’t running and screaming. She laid all too serenely on her back with a pleasant, relaxed smile on her face. It reminded me of Freya’s expression when Josephine had trapped Freya in her own mind, and I had nearly lost her.
“She’s as lovely as she is deadly,” Cordelia promised. She approached Elle and laid a motherly hand on her forehead. “They always are.”
“What is she?” I asked.
“A curse on the world,” Cordelia said and brushed aside on of Elle’s stray hairs.
“Descriptive,” Cady muttered.
“For the past eight hundred years,” Cordelia continued, “chimeras have been born and killed like clockwork. One rises, but it is always destined to fall, just as another is destined to rise after it. You see, even the most charming of them cannot be allowed to live.”
Cordelia lifted her head and drifted closer to us. I fought the urge to squirm.
“Chimeras themselves are not so abhorrent,” she explained, “but they are the lineage of witches’ most dangerous foe. They are the potential hosts for the thing of nightmares.”
“The sorceress,” Freya whispered.
Cordelia’s eyes widened. “You know of her.”
“So, you’re going to kill Elle?” Cady asked. “Because she was born to be the reincarnation of some sorceress?”
The High Witch crouched to Cady’s level. I tensed.
“I am not going to kill your friend,” she promised. “I’m going to save her.”
I recalled the vampire guard’s words.
“By entombing her,” I guessed.
“You’re not the fool you appear to be,” Cordelia replied.
But I was. I had encouraged Freya to come here, intent on doing the right thing, and I had landed us all in more trouble. I had put my sister in danger again. I’d placed Freya in danger.
I had failed the two people I loved most.
“The sorceress cannot be allowed to rise once more,” Cordelia continued and glowered. “Already, she stirs because of what you two have done.”
Cordelia looked pointedly at me and Freya.
“Because Freya transformed me into a warlock?” I guessed.
“Hmm,” Cordelia mused, “I see you did learn something on your journey.”
Cordelia came closer and studied me like I was a science project. The reek of death curdled my stomach.
“You’re the first I’ve seen in a millennium,” she whispered. “It’s why I had to be sure. I worried my memory was failing me.”
I frowned. “What do I have to do with a sorceress?”
“Not a sorceress,” Cordelia corrected, “the sorceress.”
I shrugged. Cordelia’s eyes narrowed.
“There were once witches and warlocks who lived in harmony,” Cordelia said. “Bonds existed between the species and within the two species. When such a bond formed, that witch or warlock would burn worlds for their partner. They would do great and terrible things to protect each other.”
“Anchor bonds,” Freya whispered and hung her head
“You learned about those too,” Cordelia tutted. Her gaze flitted between Freya and me. “Did you learn what force is powerful enough to intertwine the very magic of two beings? What force is capable of linking souls?”
The answer tumbled from my lips. “Love.”
Cordelia smiled. “Yes. And guess what destroyed such wondrous bonds and pushed warlocks into extinction?”
Freya’s jaw clenched. “Love.”
“The sorceress used to identify with a different label,” Cordelia prattled on and paced in front of Elle’s prone form. “She used to call herself a witch. When her Anchor betrayed her, she became something…more. Something worse.”
“She became the sorceress,” Cady deduced.
Cordelia nodded. “And her wrath did not end with her beloved. She cursed an entire species out of existence—the magical male counterparts of witches transformed into killers.”
Freya gasped. “She cursed them to be hunters?”
I had always found it odd how heavily hunters relied on the thing they hated most—magic. I thought of my dad and his horrific end.
But we couldn’t bring him back because he didn’t have an Anchor.
Freya had been my Anchor before I ever transitioned from a hunter into a warlock. She was the tether to my cursed magic and soul before my second life ever started.
“Yes,” Cordelia answered. “And the sorceress would have cursed us all if she hadn’t been stopped. She is the reason love is banned among witches. The whole world would burn for love.”
Cordelia let her words hang in the air, before she continued.
“It’s why the chimera must be contained eternally,” the High Witch explained. She fixed a disheveled edge of Elle’s shift. “If I can keep her alive forever without killing her, she’ll never grow into the full extent of her power, and the sorceress will never rise. There will be no more panic and hunting and killing. There will be peace.”
As I studied my bloodied, shackled friends, I realized Cordelia’s and my definitions of peace clearly differed. The gray-haired Handmaiden who gripped Freya cleared her throat.
“Your Majesty?” the Handmaiden said. Her pale throat bobbed. “It’s almost time.”
Cordelia looked over her shoulder. The cloudy sky was blur of pink and white and purple. In other circumstances, it would’ve been beautiful.
“It is,” Cordelia agreed and clasped her hands. She smiled. “I had hoped you two would come to me willingly. It would have made this less painful.”
“Why?” I demanded. Instinct screamed at me to stall. “What more do you need from us?”
“I don’t need you,” Cordelia corrected. “I need your bond.”
I shuddered. The thing between Freya and me flared, and Cordelia’s smile broadened.
“These cuffs were specifically designed,” the High Witch explained, “so I could access your bond while keeping the two of you detained.”
My heart raced in my chest, but my magic remained out of reach. Though it flared and mingled with Freya’s power, it operated like its own beast. It was like the muscles and nerves that connected me to my power had been severed. I hated the cold that crept over my skin and the fear that set my teeth on edge.
“Our bond?” Freya asked.
“Don’t play coy,” Cordelia chided. “I know you two are Anchors. Fret not, though, young witch. My spell will relieve you of that burden.”
As I met Freya’s gaze, fear marred her face, not relief. Something primal and intrinsic and full of rage took over.
“There was never a get-out-of-jail-free card,” I growled. “This was always the plan—to use us to feed your twisted spell to entomb Elle!”
Cordelia narrowed her gaze on me, and Freya snarled.
“Aren’t the witches you mercilessly bleed dry downstairs enough to fuel your plans?” she demanded. “Or better yet, your own power?”
Cordelia’s hand shot up and curled into a fist. Arion howled in pain, and Freya’s face crumpled with heartbreak. Her devastation only fed my wrath.
“Enough,” Cordelia ordered. Her hand drifted back to her side. “You two cannot understand—you will never understand because I will never let the sorceress rise again. This ends tonight.”
As I studied her, I realized Cordelia’s self-righteousness was genuine. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the sorceress needed to be eliminated at all costs. She was so lost in the big picture, she had forgotten about every life lost in her crusade.
“Gather, children,” Cordelia instructed her followers.
I was shoved forward, and so were Freya and Cady. I twisted and scrambled, but someone wrenched my arms farther back. My shoulders screamed in protest.
Freya landed a hit with her elbow on a Handmaiden’s chin, but the enemy witches leaped on her. One of them drove a foot directly into the side of Freya’s kneecap. As the joint gave to the force of the Handmaiden’s kick, Freya screamed in agony. I tried to reach for her, but the damned guards held me back.
“Oh God,” Cady whispered.
Freya’s knee bent at a ninety-degree angle. She swallowed a scream, and Arion roared. I wished with everything I could to help her, and our magic flickered once again.
“Very good,” Cordelia praised. “Pain motivates their bond.”
“Move,” someone barked in my ear. “Or your sister’s next.”
Shaking with rage, I stumbled closer to where Elle lay. I tried to look back to Freya, but Handmaidens surrounded her. As they encircled Elle, the rest of Cordelia’s cronies gathered candles, feathers, and milky white bones.
Someone shoved me to my knees right beside Elle’s face, and the Handmaidens carried Freya to the other side of the dais. Part of me envied the chimera. She wouldn’t have to remember any of this.
Despite the tears on her cheeks, when Freya lifted her head, her eyes burned with determination. I stared at her, willing a plan into place to stop this, but my mind was a panicked haze.
“Will—” Cady stammered. “Will it kill them?”
I glanced over my shoulder. The Garrison held my sister at bay.
“That’s not my intention,” Cordelia promised, “but we must do everything to ensure the sorceress rests.”
Across from me, a smile lifted the corners of Freya’s lips.
Had Cordelia been right?
Was being my Anchor so horrible, Freya would risk death to get rid of our bond?