Chapter 28 Cade
CADE
My body feels heavy in the seat when I wake next. My eyes trace the tattoo on my forearm, trying to ground myself.
I’m here. I’m still alive.
My temples feel like they’re caving in, crushing my brain. Nausea hits me like a wave—bitter at the back of my throat, my stomach lurching. The hangover from whatever Benjamin injected me with is finally wearing off, leaving only the pain—raw and loud.
I scan the room. Low light bounces off brick walls, casting everything in a hazy blur. I search again—desperate to find my little light in the shadows.
But I see nothing.
My stomach drops and my jaw clenches as a sharp spike of panic hits me in the chest, eyes moving frantically now.
I want to see you. Why can’t I see you?
But then I feel you.
It washes over me—faint but consistent, no sight, no sound.
Just your presence.
“Stay close to me, little ghost…”
The words rasp out, far quieter than I mean them to.
I pause, swallowing hard, trying to wet my dry throat, my jaw ticking.
“Please don’t leave.”
There’s no comfort to offer, just the sting in my ribs and the weight of knowing what comes next. I lean my head back, eyes falling closed once again.
Multiple sets of footsteps draw closer at a steady pace, rousing me from my fitful rest.
Benjamin and the man from yesterday—Frank—enter the room, saying nothing as they lug in several bags on their backs, tossing them onto the floor in the corner.
Ben claps his hands together with a loud smack, the sound ricocheting off the walls and around my aching head.
“All right, let’s get started!” he says with a smile, his tone cheerful as he pulls his brass knuckles from his pocket and slides them on slowly, approaching me.
“So, this is how it’s gonna work,” he starts, eyes bright in the dim light of the room.
“We’ve got some questions, and you’re gonna answer them to the best of your ability.
You got that?” He looks down at me from under his brows, like he’s talking to a child.
“But I think you know how this goes by now.” He says it with a smile. A chuckle.
Fucker.
“Do what you need to—you know you’re not getting shit.” My voice is a gnarled, mangled thing.
He drops his head back in a laugh. “I love that you think that.” He snickers. “C’mon in, baby girl.”
He gestures to the door like he’s calling a dog, and a small woman walks in. It’s the redhead I saw at the property—the one who hit me with a crowbar.
Cute.
She keeps her head down slightly as she enters, her pale fingers wrapped around something she hides under her arm. She avoids my gaze. She remembers. I remember, too.
She’s the witch who put up the barrier.
“Thought you fuckers killed witches. What are you doing with one?” I ask, spitting blood to the floor near my feet.
“Damn, I’m glad you asked that. And I’ll answer—but if I scratch your back, you scratch mine, yeah?” He says it playfully, like we’re old buddies at a card game.
I stare at him, deadpan.
“I’ll take that silence as a maybe!” he says cheerfully. “See, Genevieve here, she’s our backup. You know it’s Callisto we want. Gen here is mincemeat compared to what your sister’s capable of—but she’s useful. For now.” He says the words pointedly, like the woman needs the reminder.
“So, people are just disposable to the Covenant?” I scoff, the words bitter.
For a moment, I see a break in his confident facade and my eyes dart to her with realization: It’s her. The witch—she’s the one he wants to protect. That’s his leverage. He gives Rosa my sister’s head—she spares her life. But he has to know that’s not realistic.
They won’t stop at Calli—he must know that. That’s why he wants my help.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice soft as he eyes me, watching me put the pieces together. “Something like that, pretty boy. Now it’s your turn to answer a question.” He turns to look at Frank, who is behind him. “Hey, Frankie, go get me the thing.”
Frank gives a single nod, then turns and walks out without a word.
I wait for the door to slam shut before I speak, my voice steady. “I take it you have a deal with Rosa to save the girl?”
He lets out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head… then slams an uppercut into my jaw.
My teeth clack and my ears ring, the taste of blood filling my mouth.
“Shut the fuck up.” He sneers, shaking a finger in my face like he’s teaching a lesson. “But yeah—something like that. Rosa’s word is bullshit, though; I don’t trust that cunt.”
“Why… the f-fuck do you care…” I spit, my jaw numb and slack, blood dripping down my chin.
“Oh, I’m sure you put it together—smart guy like you.” He rolls his eyes at me.
“Y-you’re desperate,” I mutter, head still spinning from the hit. “You love her.”
“Bingo.” He sighs, like just hearing the words pains him. “So I’ma need you to work with me and stay alive like the stubborn bastard you are.”
Frank returns, silent as ever, and stops beside Benjamin. In his hand is a thick, worn book—leather-bound. It looks older than any of us combined.
Ben takes it, his smirk returning like a mask.
“Appreciate it, Frankie,” he says, clapping the other man on the back.
Frank doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even blink. He just steps back against the wall—his silence louder than anything Ben could say.
Ben turns back to face me, cradling the book like it’s sacred.
“Now, this part—this is where things get interesting.”
He crosses to Genevieve and hands it to her carefully, brushing his fingers against hers with a softness that doesn’t match the energy in the room.
“Go ahead, sweetheart. Just like we practiced.” He speaks to her gently, eyes on hers.
She nods. Her voice is barely audible as she opens the book and begins to chant.
“Wha… what is she doing…” I manage to rasp as the air shifts—dense and pressing, like the walls are caving in.
“Tell me where your little sister is, or my girl here’s gonna put you in the worst pain you can imagine. Trust that,” he says, tone hardening, his eyes locking on my face.
A pressure tightens around my ribs, my pulse skipping.
That panic swirling around me—it’s not mine.
It’s yours.
You’re scared for me.
Fuck—I need you steady, little ghost. I’m not going anywhere.
“Fuck you,” I say, spitting blood onto the floor at the witch—just to feel like I have control over something.
She glances at Ben, her brows twitching—concern hidden behind a mask of duty.
“Yeah,” Ben sighs, shaking his head. “That’s what I thought. Go ahead, baby girl. Do it.”
The lights flicker.
Then—shadows stretch unnaturally, reaching across the walls like fingers. The room seems to fold in on itself, and a low hum claws through my skull. Smoke seeps from the corners of the ceiling, curling around us.
One breath and I’m gone.
Then my vision snaps to black. I try to move—to scream—but I’m nothing.
No voice. No limbs.
The silence is total. Deafening.
This is magic.
And it hates me.
I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive.
I am still myself. This isn’t real.
I begin to feel like gravity has been sucked from my being—unable to discern up from down.
Up, down—meaningless.
My lungs inflate like foreign machines. Every swallow is deafening. I can hear the slick churn of muscle, the wet tick of tendons shifting, the flex of my jaw. Even my teeth feel wrong in my mouth.
It’s so quiet, I begin to hear my organs squelching with each attempted movement. The rush of my blood moving through my veins.
I’m hyperaware of every part of my body.
I become too aware of my tongue as the roof of my mouth begins to feel too tight. Panic rises in my chest. My heart pounds like it’s trapped in my ribs—too fast, too loud.
I can’t take it.
“Stop. Please.”
It slips out sharp. Uncontrolled and desperate.
The darkness fades immediately. But I’m not in the room.
The silence is eerie. The shift is too smooth. Air presses against my skin like breath, cold and wide. I blink—once, twice.
I’m outside.
This is the old Halloway property, the field behind the manor. Where the air always smells like iron and damp stone.
And there she is—
Genevieve.
Small. Still. Waiting.
“Where are we?” My voice is my own again, no longer raspy from thirst and screaming.
“This is where your ancestor found the grimoire,” she tells me in that soft voice of hers. “It’s just an illusion, but if you’re asking where your physical body sits—you are in the Covenant headquarters in Topanga Canyon.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, suspicion clear in my voice.
“I’ve been under the hand of the Covenant since I was a child,” she says, and there’s a sadness in her voice. “They took me from my parents and raised me as their own. I stayed quiet, I read their books… People tend to ignore the ones they think are small.”
The thought hits me hard in the chest. She reminds me of Calli. Not just the magic, not just the eyes—but the way she speaks like she already knows how this ends.
A girl called to the fire. A life they never planned on letting her live.
“What can you tell me about the God they serve?” I ask her, and this time my voice is softer, the image of my sister strong in my mind.
“Why do you want to know such things?” She tilts her head, curious.
“I want to end him,” I tell her truthfully.
“He can’t be killed. Not by a mortal.” She lets out a quiet laugh—not mocking. Just… tired. “Do you know how absurd that sounds? You have no idea what’s really going on here, do you?”
“Enlighten me.”
“Ben wants to save me.” She sighs. “He may be rough around the edges, but he truly loves me. He’s convinced that you have the ability to end the Covenant. But… even if you do, that still won’t stop the thing they worship.” She pauses, watching me like she’s measuring whether I can take it.
“Ben knows that. Calli has been marked.” She says the words gently. “She will be claimed.”
I narrow my eyes at her, bristling at her words. “Why would you tell me that and risk me not helping you?”