Chapter 23 Alabaster #2
“There are only three guards stationed—” Cade begins, but she cuts him off, putting her mug down with a thump.
“As far as you know,” she counters. “Do you really think they would be so brazen after one of their own went missing?”
“If it’s any consolation, Calli,” Jack says, trying to soothe her, “I’ll have eyes on him the entire time through the security cameras. I’ll be guiding him the whole way through the house. This is a stealth op, simple and clean.”
She relaxes slightly, but her mind is still torn.
“This is a bad idea,” she murmurs, mostly to herself, but Cade sits up straighter, Karma leaping from his lap, his tone sharp.
“You don’t make the decisions, Calli—I do. Rosa’s good at covering her tracks, so this is our best chance, and we have to act now.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed, Cade,” she snaps, crossing her arms, thoughts singing with worry and frustration.
“Feel lucky I’m even telling you this.” He gives her a long, pointed stare.
“I’m trusting you with this,” he continues, voice weary and a glazed look in his eyes.
Even I can see he looks off. He sighs, shaking his head to clear it before asking, “Have you found anything useful on their God or the Covenant’s origins? ”
“Not yet… I’m working on it,” she tells him, not meeting his eyes.
“All right, I—”
“Fuck you, Cade.” She glares as she stands with her coffee.
As she storms away from her brother, again.
I can feel the bitterness in her. He blatantly disregarded her.
Which, if I’m being honest, is fair. I almost respect his reckless idiocy masked as confidence, knowing Cade really will do anything for her even when she betrays him.
He gets up and follows her. Grips her arm enough to stop her. His face softens. She jerks her arm out of his grip, shoulders dropping as she exhales a breath.
“I’m sorry. I never meant to lie to you. But I need you to know that something is wrong with this mission.”
“You always say that, Calli. You are always paranoid or have some issue. This time is no different.”
“Your little ghost can’t protect you from physical danger, Cade. Do well to remember that.” She speaks quietly, but it’s laced with venom.
I see something in his eyes, a shift in his expression. You’ve really gotten to that man, ghost.
Calli stomps her way to the library, leaving her brother standing there in shock. She grabs a book off the huge stack and sits hard in the desk chair, slamming the book down.
“Gods, he’s so fucking frustrating!” she seethes.
“He would do well to listen to your counsel,” I tell her seriously.
“Wow. You say that like you’re on my side.” She says it sarcastically, but I feel her genuine surprise.
“I’m on my side,” I remind her. “You are wrong for what you did, but with this, it just so happens you’re right.”
“That’s ironic coming from something like you,” she snorts, opening the book.
“I’m a walking contradiction, baby. Get used to it.”
She brushes me off, skimming the book I now see is the one I threw at her brother.
“I thought there’d be something in here to help—but it’s all generalized bullshit glorifying their intentions.
” She sighs in disappointment. “Talking about how their ‘God’ will bring them knowledge and power in exchange for a powerful sacrifice. It’s all vague.
This is written as though they were chosen, like they are special. It’s disgusting.”
“Humans are such ignorant creatures—predictable and easily influenced. So easy to see when you’re inside their mind,” I hum, scanning the page through her eyes.
“Sarcasm is exactly what I needed right now. Thank you.” She stills, back going straight as something hits her. “Wait. No. No, that might actually be it.”
“Sarcasm? Oh, darling, I have plenty of that.”
She ignores me, jumping up and rushing to a corner bookshelf stacked with old journals, desperately tracing each spine.
“No, we need to see inside their minds. These journals are dated before the Covenant was established… I put these in here when I was unpacking years ago. We have a bunch more packed away, but this is a good start.”
“And you are just now realizing this?” I say with more sarcasm dripping from my tone.
“I never had a reason to learn about their history,” she defends. “I had the grimoire, so I focused on learning about my magic rather than the people who want me dead. I honestly just didn’t connect the dots and forgot about them.”
She pulls one down, opening it and settling back into her chair as we read its contents together.
Oct. 12th, 1847
I write this in haste and against my better judgment, for even now I feel its influence pressing upon me like the weight of sin before confession.
The thing we unearthed beneath the chapel ruins was not written by the hand of man.
Its cover is flesh-bound and cold as stone even as it rested near the hearth.
I watched the ink bleed anew across its pages, as if the words themselves refuse to remain still.
It knows I read it. It wants to be read.
At first, I believed it to be a relic. A piece of forgotten history.
But there is no history in this, only hunger.
The knowledge it offers is profound. Impossible.
And yet… it works. It answers questions not asked.
It knows the names of men long buried. And when I dream, I dream not of Heaven, but of blackened altars and blood-soaked promises.
Jonathan caught me reading it yesterday.
He is twelve and far too clever and curious.
He asked no questions—only watched with that solemn stare he inherited from his mother.
I closed the book, told him it was not for his eyes, and still—when I returned from town—I found him hunched over its pages, turning them with a reverence that chilled me.
I took it from his hands. He did not protest.
He smiled.
I have locked it away, but locks are a fool’s comfort.
I fear I have already failed in shielding him.
He is drawn to it like kindling to flame.
And the book, in turn, responds to him. The symbols shift more readily when he is near.
I dare not say it aloud, but I believe it knows he is the one who will open it again.
I have not told Margaret. There is no comfort to be had in the confession.
I fear we are not its masters. We are its vessels.
This book whispers of power. Thrones beyond flesh and influence, beyond coin. But its voice is sweet, and all sweet voices in darkness are lies. I feel myself slipping closer to temptation each day, and still, I cannot burn it. Something in me stays my hand.
Should I fall to this evil, may this journal serve as warning to my bloodline.
We are not chosen. We are bait.
—R. H.
I feel her heart racing. This is the first I’m learning of this as well.
So, it was Rholand who found it, buried under a church no less.
This just keeps getting more and more interesting.
Callisto holds the old journal in her hands as she sits, trembling.
“My Gods… This is Jonathan’s father… He found the grimoire.
There’s nothing on him in any of the Covenant books I’ve read,” she murmurs quietly.
“And why would there be? Clearly the man seemed against it.”
“Good point,” she agrees absently. “They wouldn’t put anything on paper that’s contradictory to their twisted rhetoric.
And what he says about the grimoire… he’s not wrong.
I’ve noticed it, too. Is that why you stop me every time I try to use it?
” she asks, and I feel a small burst of pride in my clever little witch.
“Who says that’s what I’ve been doing?” I tease.
“Don’t fuck with me,” she scoffs, gently setting the journal down. “Every time I use that thing, shit would happen, and now I know it was you. You’ve been protecting me, haven’t you?”
I don’t respond. She’s right in a way—I don’t want her to use it. However, I’ve haunted, threatened, and scared her… how could she think I’ve been protecting her? She speaks up, interrupting my thoughts, her voice surprisingly soft.
“Look, I hate to admit this… but I doubt I would have put two and two together if it weren’t for you. So… thank you.”
I pause, a strange warmth filling me.
“I didn’t help you… I haven’t helped you. I’ve been a nuisance at best,” I say honestly, disliking the way she passes over her own strengths. She pieced that together herself. She underestimates herself far too much.
I weigh my next words carefully.
“You have me trapped in your body, little witch. That’s not easily done. You care about others despite them being the cause of your suffering. You have a good heart and should stop questioning yourself. Everyone makes mistakes, but we learn from them.”
I can feel her thinking and the way her emotions swirl around her. She is confused but grateful. She can feel that I’m being honest, despite still questioning my intentions. She speaks slowly.
“Do you know how I can separate us? Has this ever happened before?”
“No. Not by a human, or a witch. My best guess? It’s our connection… or you’re simply something else entirely. Or maybe you just want me inside of you,” I say, my tone flirtatious as I preen at the idea…
She shakes her head, unable to hide her smile. “I won’t begin to try and understand what you mean by that, and you wish. Do you have any useful ideas?”
“Fear is a good motivator,” I say nonchalantly, mentally licking my lips at the idea.
“Yeah… No thank you, but nice try. Anything else?”
“You could allow me to take control. Then I may be able to pull myself out,” I muse idly.
“And how do you suggest I do that…?” Her voice sounds hesitant but intrigued.
I rumble softly, almost purring the words into her mind. “It’s easier if I show you. Just relax for me.”
I push my influence into her as best I can, causing warm sensations to flood her body, centralizing at her core and sliding lower.
“What are you doing?” she breathes, her face flushing as she shifts in her chair at the feeling.
“You need to let go for me.” I whisper the words softly to her, dragging my consciousness along her own.
Her mind spirals and I feel her giving in. She wants to, she wants this, but there’s hesitation. She sucks in a deep breath and leans into the feeling, letting go.
Her head tilts back as she quietly whispers, “Okay.”
She lets go and I can feel myself begin to seep out of her skin and slowly materialize. Her eyes are still closed, chest rising and falling with her deep breaths. Once fully formed, I grab her hand and pull her into me.
“I did it…” she gasps, free hand braced on my chest, looking up at me with those wide eyes of hers.
Those big, beautiful almond-brown eyes, and it feels like I’m looking into them for the first time.
The way that the golden rays hit her irises just right, making them look like a pool of honey. I can’t help but be mesmerized.
“You let me out. You followed your instincts like I showed you.” I smile and continue, brushing a thumb along her jaw. “But this time, you trusted me…”
“And you didn’t take advantage of it,” she counters, raising a brow at me.
“You’re going to make me think you actually like me,” I tease, tugging her closer. “I’d be careful.”
“You’re obnoxiously cocky and a bit terrifying… but I thought it was obvious I liked you,” she says, giggling, her head tilting back with the sound.
Shit. I’ve never heard her laugh like that, and I’ve watched her long enough to know—it’s rare.
“Your smile,” I blurt it out, staring at her lips, transfixed.
“Yeah, what about it?” she says casually, pulling out of my arms and closing the journal on the desk next to the large pile.
I step closer, following, craving her proximity.
“I believe there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to see that again,” I admit, and she smiles again, stealing my breath.
I want to live in that smile. In those dark brown eyes.
I have to admit, I’ve wanted her, in every way, but I didn’t know why.
But helping her come into herself, seeing what she can do—I have been alive for a long time, and I can say I have never known this feeling.
She was afraid, but she didn’t fight me. She wanted it. Her vulnerability, her sensitivity, her stubbornness, and her fire… There may be a million women like her—but they’re not her.
And she is mine.
And I… want to be hers.
“Careful there, demon,” she teases, turning to face me, blissfully unaware of the obsessive thought process I am having. “Wouldn’t want to fall for me.”
But there is no doubt left in my mind…
I pull her back into my chest and take her lips in a deep kiss, gently brushing her hair behind her ear. She looks up at me in surprise and pulls away. I give her a gentle smile and gaze into her dark eyes, saying my damning truth.
“It’s far too late for that, Callisto.”