CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
‘You can’t give him the grimoire.’
Liora, sat in Lisabeth’s armchair near the fireplace of Hawthorne Cottage, her arm freshly bandaged, looked positively offended by Nyssa’s admission. She’d been the first to wake in the forest, her eyes burning with righteous fury as she’d searched for Morven.
‘I have to.’ Nyssa’s voice sounded as numb as she felt. Even with the fire beside her, she was cold to the core. Her body hadn’t stopped trembling since they’d all trudged back to the cottage and Elowen had tended to their wounds. ‘If I don’t, he’ll destroy Nighthaven.’
‘He’ll try.’ Alaric placed his mug of tea down on the table a little too forcefully.
There was a nasty bruise forming at his temple, and this was the first time he’d spoken since they’d left the forest. ‘Nighthaven is a town filled with magical creatures – witches, warlocks, druids, elves – they’re all more than capable of fighting for their town, and most importantly, they’d want to.
You have to give them that choice, Nys.’
‘Besides, think of how much more damage he’ll be able to inflict if he does get your grimoire.
Do you really trust him not to destroy Nighthaven after you unlock it for him?
’ asked Elowen. Her injuries weren’t visible, but Nyssa had seen the way she’d limped the entire way back to the cottage.
Seen the pain in her eyes as she’d patched them all up.
‘Morven is many things, but he’s a man of his word.
Honour is important to him, it’s how I was able to trick him so easily last time.
’ Even now, she felt guilty saying it. She’d vowed not to give up on him as easily this time, hadn’t she?
And he had granted her twenty-four hours.
Whether it was truly because of the friendship they once shared, or to allow him to recover from his time spent in Familiars, she didn’t know.
‘Could you use it to trick him again?’ Liora asked. ‘Tell him to meet you somewhere where you’ll give him the grimoire, but set a trap instead? We still have the orb and the birdcage.’
Nyssa shook her head. ‘He’ll be expecting that. The ritual we came up with is the only thing powerful enough to hold him for good, and we’ve lost the full moon; anything else we try, if it even succeeds, will only trap him temporarily and just make him even angrier when he inevitably gets free.’
‘What about the covens?’ Alaric asked. ‘The Briar Council worked to stop Morven last time; wouldn’t they help if you sought their aid again?’
‘They might help, but the covens’ priority will always be protecting themselves and doing whatever it takes to trap or kill Morven. They won’t care if Nighthaven and its people are destroyed in the process.’
‘Of course they bloody wouldn’t,’ Liora grumbled, Nyssa’s words clearly confirming her suspicions that the covens were purely self-serving.
‘That’s not fair, Li,’ Nyssa chided, though she could understand the bard’s reasoning.
‘It isn’t that the covens are cruel. Only that their priority always has been, and always will be, to themselves and maintaining magical balance.
What Morven’s doing with the tomes and what he’s planning to do with the Hawthorne grimoire is a clear perversion of that balance.
’ Nyssa sighed, the weight of Morven’s intentions settling over her with a newfound heaviness.
‘Spells are gifts, power granted by nature and the ancestors; to steal them permanently for oneself is … abhorrent. Not to mention that in the rare cases a mage has attempted it, said mage ended up losing their mind and their life.’
Nyssa supposed that she could hand over the grimoire and hope that the influx of power killed Morven instantly, but with the luck she’d been having lately, he’d survive long enough to cause irreparable damage to the magical world. No, she needed a permanent solution.
‘I vote we try to trap him again,’ Alaric said. ‘It’ll at least buy us some time to come up with something even he can’t weasel his way out of. Is there anything else you found in Lisabeth’s spellbooks that might work?’
Nyssa let out a frustrated sigh. ‘No. The strongest binding spell in there was the one I adapted to trap him in Familiars, and we already know he can break that.’
There was a long, heavy silence, and then Liora, her voice quiet, said, ‘We could kill him.’
All eyes turned to the bard, who shrugged a slender shoulder. ‘I know it would be difficult, but … we could try. At least that way we’d go down fighting.’
Nyssa shook her head. ‘We can’t, Li. He’s too powerful. More powerful than any being I’ve ever come across. I don’t think there’s anything on this earth that could …’ Nyssa paused as the early-morning light glinted off the lake beyond the living-room window.
Remember, kin of Lisabeth: what lays beneath the surface may be the solution you seek.
They had been the selkie’s final words to her. Nyssa hadn’t understood at first – had thought perhaps she was referring to the inner version of herself she’d met during her third trial – but now …
‘Nyssa?’ Elowen’s face appeared in her line of vision, a worried divot between her brows. Nyssa’s heart was racing, her palms sweaty. There was magic tingling in her fingertips. The subtle scent of her grandmother’s power in the air.
It can’t be that simple, she thought, chewing on her bottom lip. Can it?
It was the wildest, most reckless plan Nyssa had ever considered, but if it worked …
‘I may have an idea,’ she said. And then, as her grandmother had done for her in this very same living room so many years before, Nyssa told the story of the creature of the lake.
They gathered the townsfolk of Nighthaven in the tavern.
By the time they’d finalized their plan, a thick, roiling fog had settled over the town, the same kind that had surrounded Morven during their confrontation in the woods. Nyssa knew it immediately for what it was: a reminder of his ultimatum. A noose around her neck.
‘Thank you all for coming,’ she said. Elowen, Liora and Alaric stood either side of her, while the rest of the townsfolk were huddled around tables or standing in whatever space was left. There was a heavy hum of tension in the air, and Mr Leafton’s forehead was slick with sweat.
‘Is this about the fog?’ he asked, eyes darting to the drawn curtains. ‘It’s an omen, isn’t it? A … a curse?’
Panicked whispers rippled through the crowd, and Nyssa held up her hand, her voice loud and clear as she tried to maintain control.
‘No, it isn’t a curse. But … it is an omen, of sorts.
Someone has come to Nighthaven intent on doing it harm.
I have a plan to stop him,’ she added, before anyone could panic too much, ‘but it’s a dangerous one, and in order to pull it off, I need to know you’re all somewhere safe. ’
If things went badly, Nyssa had no doubt Morven would immediately launch an attack on the town. She and her friends had decided it would be safer to have them all in one place, where they could combine their collective strengths to protect themselves.
‘No matter what happens outside, we all must remain in here,’ Alaric said. ‘We shouldn’t need to fight, but if we do, I will be in charge. Only those who volunteer to join me on the offensive will be fighting; the rest of you shall remain in here.’
‘I’ve hung protection charms around the tavern doors and windows,’ Nyssa said, pointing to the small windchimes and crystals, ‘and Liora and Elowen will also remain here to provide extra protection. I promise, they’ll keep you safe.’
‘And … what about you?’ Torin, huddled next to his aunt, asked. ‘Will you be safe?’
Nyssa fixed a small smile on her face, one she hoped disguised her growing panic. ‘I’ll be fine. Now, I have to go. I’ll see you all once it’s over.’
Alaric squeezed her shoulder. Liora gave her a bright, watery smile and a hug so tight it made it hard to breathe. Gwen gave her a brief kiss on the cheek and a whispered good luck.
And then Elowen stood before her, chin raised, eyes shining with tears Nyssa knew the elf wouldn’t let fall. Elowen pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to her lips. ‘Promise me you’ll come home to us?’
Nyssa’s throat burned, and when she finally found her voice again, she hoped harder than she ever had that her vow wouldn’t be broken.
‘I promise.’
The creatures from Familiars watched Nyssa as she flew to the spring where she’d last faced Morven.
They didn’t attack. Didn’t even move. They simply sat in various locations throughout town, silent and watchful, as the fog grew thicker around them with each passing hour. Again, Morven’s threat was clear: bring me the grimoire on time, or the creatures will attack.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t get the chance to give the order.
She’d set off an hour before her time was up, knowing Morven would be waiting for her.
The weight of her ancestral grimoire felt heavier than usual in her satchel, as if the book itself was rebelling against being taken from its home.
They’d discussed leaving it at the cottage, but knowing Morven would be more likely to fall into her trap if she had it on her, Nyssa had decided to bring it along.
She just hoped it wasn’t a huge mistake.
The fog grew thicker the closer she got to the spring, and yet it parted for Nyssa as she flew, creating a direct path to the warlock awaiting her.
Morven stood in the centre of the grove, where the discarded candles from the failed ritual remained.
It had been less than twenty-four hours since Nyssa had last seen him, and in that time, the effects of the magics he’d stolen had gotten worse.
His once vibrant, smooth skin was tinged with grey, and his impeccably styled hair had gone from slightly messed up to waves of tangled curls that clung to his jaw.
Nyssa had never been interested in Morven romantically, but she’d always thought him unfairly handsome.
Now, he looked … drained. As if the magic itself were eating him from the inside out.
She’d be lying if she said the sight didn’t break something in her.
If she said that even now, she’d been holding on to the slightest hope there was a way to bring back the friend she’d once known.
But when Nyssa landed, Morven’s eyes, wild and hungry, did not fix on her.
They went immediately to the satchel. To the grimoire nestled safely inside.
‘I knew you’d make the right choice,’ he said, the smile twisting his lips almost animal-like. ‘Let’s get this over with, shall we?’
‘Let’s.’
Nyssa reached into her satchel, her fingers brushing against the leather of the grimoire. It seemed to resist her as she tried to pull it free, its weight growing heavier with every attempt. Trust me, she pleaded. I won’t let him have you.
The grimoire’s weight remained ridiculously enhanced for half a breath longer before Nyssa felt it give in. She pulled it free with a relieved sigh, and when Morven’s eyes lit up with hunger, she knew she had him.
He took a step towards her, the magic at his fingertips crackling as he outstretched a slightly trembling hand. Nyssa took a small, careful step backwards, her stomach twisting at the hateful look he gave her in return. ‘Do not play games with me, Hawthorne. Give me the grimoire.’
‘You can have it,’ she said, ‘but I want two things in return.’
Morven’s eyes flashed. ‘You are not in a position to bargain here.’
‘Oh, I think I am.’ Nyssa’s hands clenched around the grimoire in an attempt to hide how badly they were trembling.
Her broom rested on the ground near her feet, and Nyssa shifted just the slightest bit closer to it as she continued, ‘I think you need this grimoire for whatever you’re planning.
I think,’ she paused, shifting a tiny bit closer, ‘that you gave me twenty-four hours not as an ode to our friendship, but because you wanted time to scare me into giving in. The fog, the creatures from Familiars, they’re all part of it.
You need my grimoire. You need me. Because whatever you have planned, you can’t do it alone. ’
For a second, Nyssa thought she’d gotten the upper hand. She waited for Morven to deflate, or to lose his temper and make some kind of mistake. Instead, he let out a small, mocking chuckle that made Nyssa’s blood run cold.
‘Oh, little witch, I am far from alone.’