68 Jasper
JASPER
Frankie’s words hang in my kitchen like a shroud.
She knows.
Ludmilla knows we’re after her.
Cora glances between us, the fear clear in her eyes. “How does Ludmilla know what we’re doing? Does she have spies on the island? How is that even possible with our wards?”
The rock in my stomach drops out, leaving me empty.
Oh, fucking hell . . .
The ravens.
Groaning, I sink back in the chair, lowering my head in shame and anger.
Elbows on my knees, I drag both hands through my hair.
This is all my fault. I did this to us. I knew the ravens were a threat, her little magical Eyes in my skies.
With all the chaos here on the ground, they were out of sight . . . so they slipped out of mind.
But they were never really out of sight. I bet she had them circling up at Homewood this morning. That’s how she knows what we’re doing. She watched the GPR catch fire. She watched Frankie leave the island with Birdie—
My groan turns into a low growl. She saw my Birdie. She knows she’s involved. Rage fills me. Rage, grief, white-hot indignation. This witch dares watch my island? My family? My friends? I rise slowly from my chair.
Cora leans away, eyes wide. “Uncle Jas? What is it? What’s wrong?”
Frankie looks up at me, lying on her back on my kitchen table. Wounded, close to death. I did this to her. My mistake nearly cost Frankie her life. “Jas . . . your eyes.”
I blink twice, feeling the power welling there. “I’m going to take care of this once and for all.”
“Take care of what?” Cora calls. “Jasper, where are you going?”
“Tend to Frankie!” The command in my tone leaves no room for negotiation. Marching from the kitchen, I let my magic roil inside me like a storm as I make my way through the laundry room and out into the backyard.
Hortie comes jogging through the grass, the cat trotting at her heels. “What is it?” she huffs on a breathless pant, clutching at the stitch in her side. “What happened. I—Jasper—” She gasps, shifting that hand to her chest. “Oh, my dear, your eyes—”
“Go inside,” I growl, electricity flashing over my skin. “Frankie is hurt. She needs you.”
“Jasper—”
“Go.”
A thunder head rolls in, grumbling with warning at my command.
Hortie nods and hurries away.
I march through the grass, striding into the middle of the east field. Something is stirring inside me, a magic I’ve always felt but have never been able to touch, at least not freely. In rare moments, it comes out. Bursts of lightning at my fingertips, the taste of electricity on my tongue.
But I’m a green witch. The Prescott element is always earth.
I’m an Aberrant. Born in the time of Scorpio, I wield the power to make plants grow.
And yet this storm wells inside me. It’s always been there.
In the quiet moments, I hear the waves lapping at the edges of my mind.
I feel like if I stretched out my hands, I could pull all the waters of this island around me in a crashing wave of tsunamis.
The storm clouds twist and roll in the sky above my head, called to me, fueled by my anger.
The raindrops start to fall, landing on my skin, wetting my hair.
I tip my head back, gazing up at the sky.
The ravens circle overhead, at least a dozen of them, drawn in by this strange display of powerful magic.
No going back now. I’m tired of hiding anyway. Growling low, I reach for the slender chain around my neck. With one sharp tug, the chain snaps. I drop the chain and the evil eye talisman to the grass at my feet.
High above, the ravens start to caw.
Slowly, I lift my hands above my head, turning in a slow circle.
“I know you can see me,” I shout to her feathered spies.
“I am Jasper Lyons Prescott, High Priest of the Burr Island Coven, and I am not dead, you rotten whore of a witch! You will never kill me. And you will never touch a member of my coven again. Let your ravens look their fill, for this is the last of my island you will ever see!”
The ravens caw in a frenzy, swooping lower.
Letting loose my fury, I jerk down on the heavens with both hands, pulling lightning from the sky.
Each bolt strikes into one of Ludmilla’s ravens, destroying them in a puff of acid green smoke and a flurry of black feathers.
The lightning falls from the sky but it also shoots out of me.
I lunge, fingers splayed, letting my water magic tear out of me as it goes ripping into another of her drones.
I’m not an Aberrant. Not at all. I never was. I control two elements. Earth and water. Island, sea, and sky. I belong to this place and it to me. Burr Island is mine.
Ludmilla’s spies try to flee but my lightning splits the sky. Rain pours down, drenching me to the skin as I chase after the last raven, running through the field with no care where I place my feet.
“No more hiding in the shadows,” I shout to the heavens. “No more waiting for you to pick my coven apart. I’m coming for you, Ludmilla Latchko! Do you hear me? I’m coming for your head!”
With a last crack of lightning from my fingertips, the final raven is destroyed. Swaying on my feet, I sink down to my knees. Without even realizing it, I chased her spy to the edge of the Prescott cemetery. There, not ten feet in front of me, is the stone that bears my name:
JASPER LYONS PRESCOTT
Taking a deep breath, I let the name on that stone center me. I am dead no longer. Today, I rise. Two magics swell within me. And now I’m on the hunt.
Ludmilla Latchko will die.