30 Jasper
JASPER
There’s chaos in the kitchen as Dáinn floats like an angel of death, chanting his prophetic curse to the shadows. Motherfucker, I’m really gonna kill him.
“Goddess protect us,” Mercy cries.
“Mom? Mom!” That’s Cora on the phone, helplessly watching the chaos, trapped inside a glowing rectangle a thousand miles away.
Frankie is the only one with any sense. She marches over to the wall by the door and slaps her hand on the switches, turning on all the kitchen lights. In an instant, Dáinn’s shadows curl away from the glowing pendants over the island and the recessed lights in the ceiling.
“Did he just curse us?” Alora shrieks.
“It was a warning—”
“It was a prophecy!”
“It was a cry for help,” I say over them all.
Reaching out, I grab Dáinn by the shoulder, pulling him closer to me.
“This wraith is trapped by Ludmilla, locked in her thrall by a blood bond. He’s been kept as her prisoner for almost two hundred years.
That’s how I know she’s been unnaturally prolonging her life.
If she could trap him for two hundred years, she could trap another creature and stay alive even longer. ” I turn to Dáinn. “How old is she?”
“Ancient,” he rasps. “I know she forcibly bonded at least one other wraith before me.”
I turn to the group, arms spread wide. “See?”
The coven settles at this, some of them retaking their seats. Ada Clarke sinks heavily down onto her chair. “Abomination,” she wheezes. “It’s a crime against the natural order; against everything it means to be a witch. We are meant to be mortal.”
“Sadly, my mistress does not share your zeal for mortality,” Dáinn replies. “She’s terrified of death, even as she grants it to anyone who so much as looks at her sideways.”
“What does she want with Burr Island?” Frankie calls from the back of the room. “What did she want with the First Five?”
“I’m sorry, angry witch, I don’t have that answer,” he replies. “But I promised your high priest I will help you find it, just as I have promised to help you stop her.”
“And how do we do that?” asks Cora from the phone.
His shadows swirl out behind him, creeping up the walls. “Simple. You must stop me.”
“Stop you from what?” says Frankie.
“Killing you all.”
A shiver goes around the room as his words sink in. Hortie brushes a hand to her throat, blinking behind her silly, magnified glasses. “You mean to kill us, wraith?”
Dáinn turns to her. “I would have no choice, Hortense Hastings. Ludmilla already gave me Jasper’s name. If your coven and the wards of this island continue to stand against her, she will have me kill you all. One by one, she will grant me your names, and I will devour you.”
A shocked silence follows his words.
It’s Cora who speaks. “But Jasper is still alive. So . . . what happened there?”
All eyes look to me.
I clear my throat. “We found a shield . . . of a sort.” I’m not ready to reveal Birdie’s part in all this.
Not until we understand more about who and what she is.
But I have to give my coven something. “It’s a way to keep the wraith from devouring me—devouring us,” I quickly add.
“But it’s not foolproof. We need a more permanent solution.
We need to break the bond tying the wraith to Ludmilla.
If she can’t control him anymore, she can’t send him to kill us. ”
“And once we break the wraith’s bond?” Frankie calls. “Then what happens?”
I hold my oldest friend’s gaze. “Then we kill her.”
Ruby shakes her head. “I still don’t understand. If she’s been after something on our island for four hundred years, why only attack us now?”
“I don’t know that she has been after something,” I admit.
“This is the part I don’t really understand either.
If I’m right and she was the witch who was here four hundred years ago, maybe she thought, with the sealing of the wards, her chance was gone.
But a few weeks ago, Howe finally gave her a way through the wards. ”
Hortie perks up. “What does the Howe boy have to do with all this?”
I glance around. “Haven’t any of you ever wondered why the warding of the Sacred Five included a caveat for humans bearing ill intent?”
A few of them nod. Most just look confused.
“The ward keeps a witch like Ludmilla from using humans to do her dirty work,” I explain.
“She can’t get through the wards herself.
And the kind of human who would willingly rob a grave for her?
Well, their intent would stop them before they ever touched spade to soil.
No, she had to wait, biding her time, looking for a way around the ward. ”
From the phone, Cora sighs, understanding me at last. “It’s not called ‘grave robbing’ when you’re an archaeologist, right? As far as the ward is concerned, Ezra’s intent is pure.”
“Exactly. Howe is a history-loving do-gooder, convinced of his own selfless intent. As soon as Homewood was found by that hiker, Howe announced it in the paper.” I hold up the clipping again.
“With this, Ludmilla knew she had her way in. All Howe needed was a little capital investment. Now she can use him to dig. Who knows what he’s promised her in return.
Yesterday, I threatened to stop him. Last night, she tried to have me killed. ”
Hortie sits forward, blinking behind her magnified glasses. “So, we stop her. Once and for all. We do what our sisters couldn’t do four hundred years ago, and we kill the witch.”
Reaching out, I take her hand, giving it a grateful squeeze. “To even have a chance at killing her, we have to stop her from killing us first. We have to break the bond tying her to this wraith. And he’s going to tell us how.” Dropping her hand, I look to Dáinn.
He floats there before Great-Grandma Eloise’s favorite china cabinet. All eyes in the room are locked on his shadowy face. “What do you witches know of the blood moon rite?”
My coven breaks out in hushed whispers. When no one offers an answer, he goes on. “Every month at the third quarter moon, Ludmilla must make a sacrifice to keep our bond intact.”
“And what exactly does your mistress sacrifice?” Ada asks, her brows narrowed over sharp eyes.
“The soul of a witch.”
Gasps of horror sweep around the room.
Hortie dares to clear her throat, drawing the wraith’s attention. “So, every month, for two hundred years . . . you’ve claimed a witch’s soul?”
Slowly, he nods.
“Goddess have mercy,” says Hazel, tears in her eyes.
“But—that’s thousands of witches,” Alora cries. “So much loss. Wraith, how can you partake in such violence?”
At this I step in, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He can’t help his nature, Alora. Wraiths eat souls. We can no sooner curse the vultures in the sky or the beetles in the earth.”
Down the table, Ruby’s nod is solemn. “That’s right. To everything a purpose—flora, fauna, and fae.”
A few of the others nod along with her. Most sit with looks of horror on their faces.
Filling their shocked silence, I step forward.
“Ludmilla is using blood magic to control this wraith. The forced bond between them can only be sustained with the letting of more blood. If the sacrifices stop, their bond will break. And if she can’t control him anymore, she can’t use him against us. ”
Helping herself to the plate of tea cakes, Ada scoffs. “And what’s to stop this nasty witch from killing us all before the blood moon rite, hmm?” She takes a bite of the cake, pointing at Dáinn with the rest. “That’s what you said, laddie. You said she wants us all dead.”
Dáinn inclines his head. “You’re right to be afraid, old witch.”
Ada snorts into her tea cake. “Who said I’m afraid? Show me the blackguard and I’ll box his ears! Do wraiths even have ears?”
“Auntie, please,” Mercy whispers, squeezing her arm.
Ignoring Ada’s outburst, Dáinn goes on. “Before she is anything else, Ludmilla Latchko is a coward. She prefers working from the shadows. Having Jasper killed was an act out of character. It’s too conspicuous for her.
It tells me she’s hungry. And desperate.
Whatever she wants up at Homewood, she wants it badly enough to kill for it.
But one big move will be followed by ten smaller ones.
She will wait, watching this pool for ripples.
Your coven must act as if Jasper died of natural causes.
Bury him today, mark the grave. Let her ravens see you do it.
Ask no questions and move on with your lives. ”
There are a few nods around the table.
“We’ll activate every gossip channel we have,” says Hazel. “By the end of the day, everyone on this island will know Jasper Prescott is dead. They’ll spread the news off island.”
“That’s good.” The wraith turns to me. “And you must do nothing else with Homewood. Let Ludmilla think she’s won this round.”
“But how will we find out what she’s looking for up there?” says Frankie. “How will we make a plan to stop her without first confronting Howe?”
“There are other ways and means,” he replies cryptically.
“If Ludmilla catches word of any of your coven appearing up at Homewood, she will assume you’re making moves against her, and she’ll likely send me to stop you.
I warn you all now: The first witch from this coven who ventures up to Homewood will be the next name Ludmilla offers me to devour. ”
“You all heard him,” I echo, lending my weight to his request. “No one goes near Homewood. Or Ezra Howe. Or the historical society. Not until we’re clear of all this. Understood?”
Around the room, the rest of the coven nods in agreement.
“Ludmilla has waited this long for her plans to work,” the wraith goes on.
“She will wait longer still. Bonded to me as she is, she thinks she has all the time in the world. That she thinks like an immortal will be her downfall, for she is not immortal. With your coven’s help, I’d like to remind her of that cruel reality. ”
“I’m coming home,” Cora calls from the phone. “I’ll help. Whatever you need—”
“Honey, no!” Hazel turns the phone, looking at her daughter. “You have school to think about. And you’re safer away—”
“But the coven isn’t. You can’t keep me away from this fight, Mom. You need me.”
Hazel looks to me, desperate for me to arbitrate in her favor.
I feel like an asshole, but it can’t be helped.
Cora is powerful. We need her. I have a feeling we’ll need the strength of the entire coven before the end.
“Let her come,” I say, watching Hazel’s face fall.
I’ll hate myself for this later, when Ludmilla is dead and the coven is safe.
Frankie steps forward, determination simmering in her gaze. “High Priest, I accept your proof of the threat against our coven. Tell us what you need, and we’ll see it done.”
Around the room, the rest of my coven slowly stands. Even old Ada rises, stuffing the rest of her tea cake in her mouth.
I look to Dáinn. “Well, wraith? What do you need us to do?”
He squares his bony shoulders. “The next blood moon rite will occur in less than a fortnight. That leaves us ten days to execute a plan for your coven to infiltrate Ludmilla’s manor at Raven Watch. You must all be in place at the moment of the rite and stop her from making the sacrifice.”
With a nod I reach out, offering the wraith my hand. Before this assembly of witches, he takes it. I taste my magic on my tongue as I seal our fates together. “My coven is at your command.”