Chapter 25
25
H enry was back in the room when I woke up.
“You’re an asshole,” I grumbled, grabbing the flat pillow from under my head and hurling it at him.
He caught it with a low chuckle.
“I see you are back to being yourself.”
I didn’t say anything as I sat up in the bed. Henry rose from the chair he was sitting in and strolled over to me.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, propping the pillow behind my back so I could rest against it.
“Fine,” I said quietly.
My cheeks heated as my mind flashed back to what I’d done right before I’d drifted off to sleep. What I had to do in order to get rid of the burning desire elicited by Henry’s blood.
One side of Henry’s mouth turned up as if he knew what I was thinking, and he dipped his head and smirked under his breath, walking back to the chair.
“Thank you,” I said low as the Lord returned to his seat. “For not taking advantage of me. I wasn’t myself.”
“I know,” Henry said, his expression growing serious.
His gaze dropped to my mouth and lingered there. My heart skipped a beat and my chest felt inexplicably tight as I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was. Now that I knew how his lips felt on mine, what was I supposed to do with that knowledge?
Dragging my gaze away from Henry, I shifted it to the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling before lowering it to the rustic bed I was in and the small table beside it. An oil lamp sat on top of it, casting a soft, yellow glow around the room.
“Where are we?” I asked Henry.
The Lord settled in the chair, deep shadows creeping into his eyes.
“I couldn’t take you back to New Haven after Isabelle and I saved you from the Dark Witches. There was no time,” he paused and swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing.
A cold feeling invaded my chest—I’d come so close to dying.
“I took you as far from the temple as I could before I didn’t think I had another second to spare before giving you my blood,” he paused and added with a shuddering breath. “You were dying.”
Without thinking, I brought my hand up, rubbing the spot on my chest where Antaris’s claws had dug in when she’d attacked me.
“We were in the middle of the Black Forest, and I was giving you my blood while Isabelle kept watch, and the most amazing thing happened,” Henry said, his lips curling upward.
My eyes widened as I hung on every word, sitting up straight on the bed and crossing my legs.
“They came to our aid,” he said quietly, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward.
“Who?” I whispered.
“White Witches,” he said, and my heart sped up in my chest. “Not all of them perished during the Red War. Some survived and went into hiding.” A look of awe and relief settled into his features as he shook his head and chuckled as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “They let me bring you here while you healed,” he said, looking around the small bedroom. “Isabelle went back to New Haven.”
I was at a loss for words. I was a descendant of White Witches, and I’d just learned that my people had not all been eradicated. Perhaps the ones that had survived could help shed light on my heritage.
A soft knock drew my attention to the door.
“It’s Celeste,” Henry said, his eyes darting toward the sound. “The White Witch who lives here. Are you feeling up to speaking with her?”
“Yes.” I nodded, my breath catching in anticipation.
Henry rose to his feet and walked to the door. When he opened it, an old woman stepped inside the room, holding an oil lamp in her hand. Her eyes were a striking cerulean blue, the color a startling contrast to her warm, beige skin and long, white hair.
“Sophie, this is Celeste,” Henry introduced her. “Celeste, this is Sophie.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I said, scrambling to get off the bed. When I stood up, Henry was by my side in an instant, his hand on my elbow for support. “I’m okay, I can stand,” I told him, touched by the gesture.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sophie,” Celeste said with a slight accent. The musical lilt of her voice reminded me of my mother. “You must be hungry.” She smiled at me, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, which were wary as she appraised me from head to toe.
“Starving,” I said, realizing that I indeed was.
“Follow me,” Celeste said, leaving the bedroom.
I fell in step behind her, my gaze landing on the colorful woven shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Henry followed close behind, a cool and comforting presence at my back. When we walked into the small, cozy kitchen, my stomach grumbled at the smell of roasted meat and potatoes.
“I made dinner, but we can start with some tea if you’d like,” Celeste said, placing the oil lamp she’d been holding on the kitchen table.
“Tea sounds wonderful,” I told her, as I wasn’t sure I could handle anything heavy.
Henry pulled out a chair for me, and I sat down at the rectangular table that took up most of the kitchen. When the Lord took a seat to my right, I glanced past him at the window. The curtains were drawn, but a thin gap in between let in a sliver of moonlight, letting me know it was nighttime.
An herbal aroma filled the small space as Celeste poured three cups of tea out of the weathered green teapot and took a seat across from Henry and me. The Lord took a sip from his cup, and I wondered if he actually liked tea or was just trying to be polite.
Cradling my cup, I let the warmth seep into my hands as I took a steadying breath.
“Celeste, did you know my mother or my grandmother?” I asked her, hopeful.
Her bright blue eyes were shrewd as they searched mine.
“I never met them,” she said, and my face fell in disappointment. “But I know of your lineage,” she continued, and my ears perked up as I scooted to the edge of my seat. “Your great-grandmother Josephine was a White Witch. She had a daughter, Celine…”
“My grandmother,” I interjected, and Celeste nodded.
“When Dark Witches were hunting us during the Red War, Josephine hid Celine in New Haven and sacrificed herself to save her daughter’s life.”
My breath left me as I stared at Celeste, guessing that the amulet was called Josephine’s Tear to honor my great-grandmother’s sacrifice.
“Do you know about the amulet?” I whispered, unable to bring myself to talk about it in anything but a hushed tone.
“I do. I have heard Celine was the one who began creating it. She called it Josephine’s Tear in honor of her mother.”
“She didn’t finish it,” I surmised. “Because the Dark Witches took her.”
Sorrow filled Celeste’s voice as she said, “Yes. We tried to save her, but she was already gone by the time we got to the temple.”
When she said “we”, I remembered that Henry had said there was more than one White Witch who’d come to his aid in the woods.
“How many White Witches are left?”
Sharp blue eyes flicked to Henry before returning to me.
“A few.” Celeste hesitated before continuing, “Our survival depends on our ability to stay hidden. That’s why no one in the Empire knows about our existence.”
My brows knitted as my eyes searched hers.
“White Witches could help us fight the Dark ones—” I started.
“We tried that during the Red War,” Celeste interjected. “We lost and got nearly eradicated,” she said.
Her tone told me to drop the subject, so I did, shaking my head as I lowered my gaze to my teacup. Even if the White Witches didn’t want to help us fight the Dark ones, humanity still had hope. Just because my blood didn’t activate the Tear didn’t mean the amulet didn’t work.
“Do you know how to activate the Tear?” I lifted my hopeful gaze to Celeste.
“I always thought it was Josephine’s bloodline that would activate it. We all did,” she said, and my heart dropped.
“My blood didn’t work,” I said, my voice hollow.
I couldn’t help but feel like I’d let everyone down.
“That’s what the Lord said.” Celeste glanced at Henry. “Did your mother leave any clues about the Tear? I assume she was the one who finished it.”
“I think she did, too. The only other clue I have is…she wrote “power of three” on the note about the amulet.” Henry’s head swung to me, but I ignored his questioning look. “Do you know what it could mean?”
Celeste pondered what I’d told her for a few minutes until she shook her head and said with a heavy sigh, “I’d think it meant the power of three generations of White Witches.”
“That’s what I thought as well,” I admitted, hanging my head. I lifted it as a thought occurred to me. “What if I need to tap into my magic to activate it? If I am a descendant of a White Witch, I should have magical powers, right?”
Celeste studied me for a moment as if looking for signs of magic in my features before she replied, “Yes, you have the magic in your blood. It is possible that you need to bring it forth before your blood can activate the Tear.”
“Perhaps examining the amulet could help answer that question,” Henry said nonchalantly, pulling the Tear from his pant pocket.
I stared at the Lord with wide eyes.
“How did you get it?” I asked in disbelief.
“I snatched it from the Dark Witch before she fled the temple,” he said, handing me the amulet. “Take it. It belongs to you.”
I stared at him in awe. He’d broken into the witches’ temple, saved my life, and managed to retrieve the Tear in the process.
“Thank you,” I breathed, trying to convey with my eyes the gratitude I felt.
“You’re welcome,” Henry replied with a small smile.
“Would you like to examine the amulet?” I asked Celeste, turning back to her.
When she nodded, I handed her the Tear. She placed it in her palm and covered it with her other hand, closing her eyes in concentration. I took a sip of my cooling tea to relieve the sudden dryness in my throat. A few minutes passed before Celeste opened her eyes and looked between Henry and me.
“He doesn’t know, does he?” she asked.
I flinched at her words. Somehow, I immediately knew what she meant.
“No,” I replied, feeling Henry’s stare boring into me. I refused to meet his gaze.
“You need to tell him,” Celeste said, surprising me.
“Why?” I asked, my eyebrows slamming down. She needed to give me a good reason to reveal to Henry that the Tear could also kill vampires.
“I have a feeling he needs to know,” the witch replied.
“You have a feeling?” I gave her a dubious look.
Celeste shrugged. “As White Witches, we have a strong connection to the world around us. Sometimes, the world whispers things to us, and we choose to listen.”