Chapter One
Twenty years later
‘Wait!’
The word sliced through the air, causing everyone at the gravesite to pause. It was Emberlyn’s aunt who’d spoken, her blue eyes wide, her arms stretched out.
Gill licked her lips. ‘Did anyone check the casket? Just to be sure she hasn’t . . . you know . . . come back?’
Not one person snickered. In fact, some shifted uncomfortably at the thought. If any witch could have found a way to cheat death, it would have been Millicent Vautier.
She had not been well liked at Chilgrave, nor had she made any attempt to be.
All Millicent had been interested in was acquiring more power.
There were no forms of magick she hadn’t dabbled in, no spells she’d shied away from.
She’d had not one problem casting curses, sacrificing animals, invoking demons, working with dark deities or any such shit.
Given the risks that Millicent had consistently taken and the depths of magick she’d explored, Emberlyn considered it an absolute miracle that her grandmother had died a peaceful death – falling into an eternal slumber while taking a nap on a park bench on a warmish March day.
The threads of grief wrapped tight around her heart contracted as she recalled hearing news of Millicent’s passing. It had been a dark day for Emberlyn, who’d loved the woman fiercely regardless of her . . . proclivities.
The High Priestess Reena cleared her throat. ‘Maybe we should take a look.’
Three of Emberlyn’s relatives stepped out of the nearby cluster of mourners.
Not really ‘part’ of the family, Emberlyn stood off to the side with her best friends, Paisley and Kage. The twins were her only real friends, to be truthful.
As people cautiously approached the coffin like it was a ticking bomb, Emberlyn idly swept her gaze over the charmingly gothic cemetery.
It was perched on a slight hill, so the lines of headstones were a little higgledy-piggledy.
Most of the tablets were granite, but others were concrete and marble – and all in various hues with lawns and flowerbeds.
Sun-bleached statues and carvings and other monuments were sporadically placed here and there.
The cemetery’s charm was woven throughout the entire town. Surrounded by lush forests that stretched for miles upon miles, Chilgrave was a patchwork of buildings from various eras . . . and it had once been home to both the first witch and the first werewolf.
There were lots of theories as to how Lilith Vautier – Emberlyn’s ancestor – had come to be a witch. Similarly, there were many stories explaining how her lover, Lupin Stone, had become a werewolf. No one knew the ‘hows’ of it for sure.
Whatever the case, fascinated enough by the fictional stories of preternatural creatures, the couple had sought – and found – a way to become them.
Lilith had shared her power with some of her townspeople.
Likewise, Lupin had subjected others to the Change, creating more just like him.
The coven’s children were subsequently born witches, just as the clan’s offspring were born werewolves. A grave inheritance indeed.
And so here in this town lived the descendants of the original coven and the original clan. It meant they were stronger and more powerful than average witches and werewolves.
Hearing a creak, Emberlyn looked to see her Uncle Dez awkwardly opening the casket.
She couldn’t see the interior from this angle, but going by the looks of relief that graced the faces of her relatives, she would imagine that it did still contain a corpse.
Then their expressions once again crumpled with fake grief.
Paisley leaned into her, sighing. ‘They already know they were named in the will,’ she whispered. ‘Why are they pretending to give a damn that she’s gone?’
Someone in the crowd snorted. Probably a werewolf. Their hearing was exceptional.
‘They’re all about appearances,’ Emberlyn reminded her, keeping her voice ultra-low.
On her other side, Kage hummed his agreement. ‘I’m betting they’ll break out the champagne and party poppers later.’
Quite possibly. Neither of Millicent’s living children had had much time for her. They’d detached themselves from her when young and moved in with their father, mortified by how she’d become a lone practitioner who’d trodden a sinister path.
It was only Emberlyn’s mother Avery who’d stayed with her as a child. Millicent had had little to do with the raising of Gill and Dez. Little to do with anyone but Avery and then, later, Emberlyn.
Over the years, Emberlyn had absorbed all that Millicent had taught her.
She’d explored different forms of magick.
She’d encountered the many deities her grandmother had conjured.
And she’d taken Millicent’s advice: Emberlyn had become the biggest, baddest – yes, she did know that wasn’t a real word – witch that she’d needed to be in order to keep threats at bay.
But it meant that Emberlyn wasn’t popular among the other witchy folk. Apparently, she made people nervous. Especially when she smiled. So she smiled a lot.
Now that the casket was set to rights, Reena continued reading aloud the blessing. Emberlyn found her gaze shifting to the nearby white tablet adorned with an elegantly pointed arch and ornate tracery. Avery Vautier, loving mother of Emberlyn.
Emberlyn swallowed hard, her gut twisting as she failed to pull up an image of her mother’s face. She couldn’t do that anymore. Couldn’t remember much about Avery. The memories that Emberlyn did have of her mother were so vague they were dreamlike.
‘I know I used to whine about how I could never go to funerals, but . . . yeah, I don’t know why I whined,’ said Kage. Before becoming a werewolf – something that had suppressed his magickal abilities – the once-clairvoyant-witch had had to avoid graveyards. ‘It’s super dull.’
Emberlyn felt a frown tug at her brow. ‘What did you expect? Dancing and drum-beating?’
He shrugged, plucking at his short, russet-brown hair. ‘I don’t know. Maybe some “Safe travels” messages. A We’ll miss you banner. A few goodbye gifts.’
‘We’re mourning her death, not sending her off on a cruise.’
Paisley snorted, mirth dancing in the same moss-green eyes she shared with her twin. Her long hair was slightly darker than his, but it was just as thick. While she was a little over five feet tall, Kage had a longer, leaner build.
‘On a more interesting topic,’ Paisley began, ‘who do you think your grandmother left the manor to?’
Emberlyn puffed out a breath. ‘No idea.’
Normally, copies of wills would be posted to beneficiaries.
But Millicent had always had her own way of doing things.
She’d drawn up the will herself and given it to her attorney, along with a list of her beneficiaries and strict instructions that the will be read aloud after her funeral.
She’d also insisted that it be read aloud by Reena – which was weird, since Millicent hadn’t been part of the coven for a very long time.
No one had been able to peek at the will because she’d spelled the envelope closed.
Only a prick of blood from Emberlyn – someone Millicent had evidently felt confident wouldn’t disrespect her wishes – would open it.
Reena had ‘suggested’ that Emberlyn could do this beforehand, but she’d firmly refused.
Emberlyn knew why the High Priestess was eager to see the will. Reena wanted to speed along the purchase of the manor. She had been trying to get her hands on it for years, but Millicent would never sell, insisting that it should remain with the Vautier line.
Reena disagreed.
The High Priestess had big plans – it was talk of the town. She not only meant to take over the manor, she also planned to build houses on the expansive stretch of land attached to it. Money had already exchanged hands between her and a construction company run by a werewolf clan.
Either Gill or Dez would inherit the manor, and both were willing to sell it to Reena. As such, she likely would have already started transferring her possessions to the place if she’d been able to get inside. People were having a little trouble with that right now.
‘Gill is awful sure the manor will be hers,’ said Kage.
Yes, Gill and her husband had even urged their daughter Mari to give up her apartment, promising she could have their current home when they moved into one of the soon-to-be built houses. ‘But so is Dez.’
Dez had actually been taunting his ex-wife about how she could have been a very rich woman if only she hadn’t divorced him, because Reena would pay him a ridiculous amount of money to finally be the Lady of Black Willow Manor. Or, as most would more simply term it, Black Willow Witch.
‘Knowing Millicent, she left everything to her cat,’ muttered Emberlyn. ‘Although . . . she wasn’t quite as evil to Mari, so maybe she left the manor to her.’
‘Maybe,’ said Paisley. ‘But there’s something smug about Dez’s idiot son. Like he knows something we don’t. Ames made it his mission to serve her over the past six months. Do you think maybe she was so grateful that she decided to leave him everything?’
Emberlyn frowned. ‘She hated that asshole. She called him “that asshole”.’ Ames hadn’t whatsoever ‘grown up’.
‘She hated everyone,’ said Paisley. ‘You most of all.’
Emberlyn’s frown deepened. ‘Nah, she hated him way more.’
‘All your birthday cards were addressed to, “My biggest disappointment”.’
‘Not over the last few years.’
‘No, they said, “To whom it may concern”. Face it, she hated you most.’
Emberlyn sighed, Millicent’s voice drifting into her head . . .
‘Why do you have to be so damn awkward, Emberlyn? You have so much potential; could access so much more power. The price isn’t that high. Would it really be so awful to sell slivers of your soul?’
Uh, yeah.