Chapter 31 Callisto
CALLISTO
I can’t stand this. I’ve been sitting in the library, staring at my phone, waiting for it to ring for over an hour.
Alabaster is Gods know where. I’ve been trying to find ways to reconnect with the spirit that won’t kill me.
But I haven’t found anything useful thus far.
An entire library full of books, and I can’t even find a damn locator spell that works.
I can’t deal with this: the not knowing.
I spent years in the dark, only now finally getting Cade to open up to me.
Finding common ground, just for him to be taken.
There is no way this is how it ends. He’s too capable, too stubborn to die.
I rub my face and allow myself to crumple to the ground.
Everything he has done to keep me safe just for me to go behind his back.
He was right. I’ve been selfish. He isn’t just protecting me—he’s preventing them from ever being able to hurt anyone else.
I drop my head, my hands running through my hair.
I’ve been an asshole. He deserved better and now I may never have the chance to make it up to him.
I refuse to accept it. I can’t accept it. I won’t.
I stand and head over to the bookcase, trying to find anything I can. A locator spell would work. Anything… Just one shred of hope. The thought comes to me in an instant—
My tarot cards! I hurry to my room and go to my nightstand. They’re there, nestled right next to… the grimoire. I can’t use it. I shouldn’t. I haven’t touched it since I read Rholand’s journal entry… I accept that it is out of my depth right now. Dangerous.
So I sit, pull out the cards from their pouch, and begin shuffling. Questions fill my mind: Is he alive? How can I help? Will he forgive me?
I can’t fixate on just one question. Frustrated, I shake my head and put the cards in front of me. Splay them out. I take a deep breath and think of Cade, choosing a card in my mind. The king of swords. If I choose that card, he is alive, but if I pull the devil… he’s not.
I slowly hover my hand over the deck. I have no idea if this is going to work but it’s worth a shot, even just for peace of mind. I close my eyes and pick a card.
The king of swords.
Holy shit. My heart skips and a rush of relief washes over me. Still alive. Thank the Gods… I almost can’t believe that worked. I close my eyes once more, a single question in mind.
Where can I find more information?
I breathe and pull one more card.
The high priestess.
Of course I would pull this card. Alabaster’s words echo in my head.
Trust your instincts.
I close my eyes and search my mind when I remember—
The attic…
When we first moved here, I remember we put everything we couldn’t fit in here in the attic.
There has to be something. Anything that might actually be able to help me.
I quickly jump up and run out of the library, up the stairs, and to the hall opposite my room.
Open the door, the dusty wood creaking under my feet.
I reach for the string and tug, the dim light glowing over the cardboard boxes that litter the floor.
I sit myself on the ground and begin to open them one by one.
Most of them contain books. One book in particular catches my eye.
It’s old. Really old. Leather-bound and wrapped tight. The pages look uneven and tattered.
I slowly untie the string and unwrap the book. It looks a lot like R. H.’s journal. I open the first page and skim over the words…
It’s indeed another journal, but the name at the bottom makes my heart drop into my stomach: Jonathan Halloway.
Holy shit.
I pull the entire box off the floor and lug it down the stairs and into the library, carefully setting it next to the desk. I feel for the seat with my free hand as I begin to read.
September 8th, 1848
Father caught me with the grimoire again today. He scolded me and took it away, claiming I’ve no business meddling with something so evil. When will he understand… it calls to me.
I watched him try to burn it once. By morning, it lay in the ashes, untouched, covered in soot but still whole. He doesn’t see it. He doesn’t feel what I feel. I am bound to it. My magic grows stronger with each passing fortnight.
The last time he took it from me, I made the walls tremble. The ground shifted beneath our feet. It frightened Mother terribly, but I couldn’t stop myself.
I try to control it. Truly, I do. But it’s beginning to overtake me.
I’m nearly a man now. Soon, Father will no longer be able to command me. And once I learn to harness this power without bleeding… I will take what is mine. He won’t be able to stop me.
—J. H.
Goose bumps rise over my skin as I stare down at the old journal.
My Gods…
He was like me.
The bleeding. The loss of control. Is that why he built the Covenant? Because of the grimoire?
My hand drifts to the back of my neck, fingers brushing the raised scar—all I’ve ever known. What they taught me was that the Covenant sacrifices people to gain power from their God.
But… is that even true?
My thoughts spiral. If Jonathan Halloway had magic—if he was born with it—why create a system that kills people like us? None of the books on the Covenant mention his power. Unless… they didn’t know. Unless it was erased. Hidden.
The whole foundation of the Covenant was built on gaining power through blood. Sacrifices. That’s the point, isn’t it?
But if he had power… Why would he need to take it from others?
Why would he kill what he already was?
My brain tries to make sense of it, but it’s not clicking. The pieces don’t fit. Something’s missing. What if the Covenant wasn’t about worship? What if it was about control?
But all I know right now is that everything I believed about the Covenant might be a lie—and that Jonathan Halloway was never just a founder.
I try to see the pieces how Cade would. He’d put the emotion aside. Break it down. Trace the motives. Connect the patterns.
He’d know what this means.
Cade. Fuck. I pull out my phone and check again for any notifications. Nothing.
Doubt creeps in. What if the cards were wrong? He may be alive… but that doesn’t mean he isn’t in a living hell.
This journal changes everything, but I don’t know how, exactly. I begin to feel the overwhelming presence I’ve come to see as a sense of comfort: Alabaster.
“You’ve been busy,” he says, placing a finger on the journal, seeming to skim the page. “Find anything interesting?”
“I—I don’t know, honestly.” I turn toward the window. “The man who established the cult. The one that’s after me… He was like me.”
“Is that so?” His response sounds almost like he’s baiting me. The tone of his voice pulls the realization from me. I whirl around to face him. His glowing eyes are akin to a creature from the deep, dangling its luminescent lure. Drawing me in, beckoning me to ask the question.
Why is he here?
I walk up to him quickly, my gaze fixed on his face.
“Why do you say that like you know?” I focus on his eyes, searching for answers.
A small smirk plays at the corners of his lips.
“What do you know?” I ask again sternly.
His face is unreadable. I straighten myself and wait for him to break the silence.
“What do you want to know?” he says, crossing his arms.
“Why are you here?” I demand.
He drops his arms to his sides, exhaling a slow breath as he sits on the same chair where we shared our first kiss.
“Let’s call it… curiosity.” He places his elbow on the arm, hand to his chin. “I was drawn to the grimoire, you see. That’s a very interesting thing for humans to have. Items like that are quite dangerous when left in this world for too long.”
I sit down on the ground, crossing my legs. “Define dangerous.”
He glances up like he’s weighing the risk of telling me as Karma comes in, jumping on his lap. He pets her head as he speaks.
“It’s artifacts like that,” he says slowly, “that sparked the worship of Gods across your world. Whole religions built around them. We thought they’d all been confiscated. Removed from this realm a long time ago. Not all of those Gods were worth worshipping, Calli.” He leans in.
“Wait. Why? Why would your kind take them?”
His eyes glint as though he’s recalling a memory.
“There was a war. A war on worship. The more a God is worshipped, the stronger they become. That’s the way of the world. That’s what humans were made for.”
“Made?” My voice catches. “What do you mean made?”
He chuckles in a low voice.
“Oh, little witch… you really think your kind evolved that fast? You think you crawled from the mud and learned to build temples on your own?” He smiles.
“Mortals are the prey of many species. Your blood feeds vampires. Your souls feed what you call demons. Your worship feeds the divines. The list goes on.”
I stare, wide-eyed. I’ve never known a religion, not like I imagine other people may have grown up with. I’ve always accepted that I know nothing—so anything could be possible. Vampires, Gods, ghosts, demons. All concepts I have accepted are possible and now know to be true.
But this… this is a creature who has seen things, one who knows things that I couldn’t even fathom.
I look up at him in a different light. One where he isn’t the obnoxious demon who has been terrorizing me, or the thing that has made me question myself, or the form I may have feelings for.
But something completely otherworldly and powerful.
A being capable of great violence, a being I called.
A dozen questions crash through me all at once.
How much does he know?
How old is he?
What even is he…?
My voice drops to a whisper.
“What… what are y—”
My phone rings in my pocket and I jump, pulling it out and quickly answering.
“Cade!” My heart thumps in my chest. “Oh my Gods, you’re alive!” Without realizing it, tears begin streaming down my face, my voice cracking.
“Please tell me you are on your way home.”