Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Isit in an upholstered leather chair between the two recovery beds at the Order of the Arcane infirmary. My younger sisters remain unconscious, their chests rising and falling in relaxed, rhythmic breathing.
But no matter how often the healers assure me they'll make a full recovery, I can’t relax. I won’t relax until they open their eyes and tell me they’re all right.
They've been unconscious for days.
Beyond the room, the infirmary hums with quiet efficiency. Magical healers of several races move between beds, tending to the rescued witches.
There are close to fifty of them, all in various states of recovery.
The Order of the Arcane is as impressive as it is elite.
I still have no idea how I gained access to it, but after everything the empowered world has taken from me, I’ll happily accept my sisters being rescued and cared for as a make-up gift.
“Still here, are you?” Garrison’s deep timbre greets me as he fills the doorway to the ward. His expression is tired and somber.
“Yeah. I need to be here.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”
He grunts softly and steps into the ward to stand at the end of Violet’s bed. “If you change your mind, I give you my word you will be notified the moment they wake up.”
I shrug. “I figure they laid there waiting for me to come for five years. It’s nothing for me to sit here for a few days.”
He nods. “Do you want to be left alone, or would you like an update?”
I stand and stretch. “If you’re here to tell me Laurel’s been found and will suffer for the rest of her life, I’m all ears.”
“If only life were that kind. We’ve figured out how she escaped despite our block on portal energy, and I have all our resources working to track her down. Not to mention, the Dravens are highly motivated to exact their revenge.”
“As they should be.”
“No argument. But in the meantime, we must be content with what successes we achieved. Forty-seven witches were rescued, ages ranging from eleven to twenty-three, and most will make full recoveries because of you."
“It was your people who found and rescued them.”
His dark eyes find mine. "You stood your ground and took Laurel on when no one else saw what she was. You rallied the forces, and fought for the freedom of your sisters."
I shrug as the weight of it settles over me. Forty-seven lives. Forty-seven families disrupted or destroyed. “No offense, but I hope the Dravens find her before your people. She deserves more than a cell in an empowered prison.”
“Well, Sienna Draven is a very powerful and motivated woman. I have no doubt she will destroy worlds to find Laurel and make her suffer.”
The conversation falls quiet, and I search the depths of my conscience to find any moral objection I might have to the torture and destruction of a woman who was once a friend to my family.
I’ve got nothing. Laurel Cromwell deserves every ounce of suffering coming to her.
"The siphoning plot ran deeper than we knew." Garrison continues. "We identified those first three covens when you identified Nyx Blake and Heath Walker from the meeting you interrupted, but we have confirmed another three coven leaders involved and two more under suspicion."
My stomach turns. "How far does it go?"
"Far enough that I won't rest until every one of them is rounded up." Something fierce flashes in his gaze. "You have my word, Poppy. We won't stop until every one of these people is weeded out.”
I believe him. Garrison Stonehoof doesn't make empty promises.
"Thank you." The words feel inadequate, but they're all I have left in me to give.
He rests his massive hand on my shoulder and squeezes. "Get some rest. Your sisters will need you when they wake."
He’s halfway to the door when a hoarse voice chimes in. "Sounds like I missed one hell of a party."
I twist around and am at my sister’s bedside in a heartbeat. "Violet? Are you all right?”
Her dark brown gaze—the same shade as Lily and Dad—meets mine. She looks confused, maybe a little disoriented, but aware.
Tears blur my vision as I grab her hand. “Hey there. You’re safe now.”
“Lily?”
“Her too.” I lean to the side so she can see our little sister in the next bed. “We got you both out… all of you.”
She squeezes my fingers and stares up at me. “Wow, you got boobs.”
A laugh breaks through my sob. “Yeah, that happens.”
Violet's gaze drifts around the room, taking in the infirmary, the other beds, the quiet chaos of recovery. "What happened?”
I brush her hair back from her face. "What do you remember?”
Her brow pinches, and she closes her eyes. “Nothing, really. My mind feels foggy. I’ve got a bunch of jumbled images, but can’t put it together.”
I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.
I decide it’s good.
It’s bad enough they were captured and physically suffered. Why should they have to relive it with haunting memories?
I squeeze our joined hands. “Well, I’ll tell you what I know. The first and most important thing is that the healers think you and Lily will both make a full recovery.”
“Recovery from what?”
Garrison dips his head and slips out, giving us privacy.
I spend the next twenty minutes going over everything I know for sure and some of the things we’d been able to piece together.
When I finish, she closes her eyes. When she opens them again, tears track down her cheeks. "Five years? The last thing I remember clearly is Mom kissing us goodnight before she went to meet a witch friend for a night ritual.”
“Yeah, I woke up when Laurel came to tell Dad that Mom was in danger. He left with her and told me to hold down the fort. I did a pretty shitty job of it.”
“None of this is your fault.” Violet's voice drops to a whisper. “I can’t believe they’re both gone. I think… somewhere in my mind I knew, but to really know it…”
I hold her hand tighter. “I know. It’s horrible.”
I crawl onto her bed and hug her, the two of us sharing in the profound grief of everything we’ve lost. Everything Laurel and her friends took from us.
And for what? Power? To gain the magical strength to lead a coven? It makes no sense to me. We lay there for ages, and I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until a mumbled groan from the next bed snaps me awake.
I prop myself up on my elbow and look over. Lily shifts in her bed, her face scrunching. Her eyes crack open, squinting against the light. "Poppy?"
I roll off Violet’s bed and hurry over. "Hey, Lil."
“What’s going on? Where are we?”
I take her hand and Violet rounds the bed to take her hand on the other side. “It’s a long story, but the good news is, we’re together and it’s over. And, now that you’re awake, we can all go home.”
The standing stones hum around me, the ancient magic of the Hallowind bloodline thrumming through granite and into my skin. I've been home with Violet and Lily for three days—three days of them sleeping more than they're awake.
Three days of answering the same questions over and over as their foggy minds try to piece together five lost years.
Three days of feeling their grief crash into mine every time one of them remembers Mom and Dad are gone.
I want to call Mom to the physical plane and tell her they're home, but am torn about her seeing them struggle when I know she's struggling too.
Adulting is hard.
I press my forehead against the cool stone and breathe. The ancestral magic rises to meet me, feeding my cells as much as my soul. Here, in this circle, I can shut out the world and work on my own recovery. On my loss. On needing to pick up the slack and pull this family back together.
The Hallowind bloodline pulses through these stones, generations of witches who came before, their power woven into the very earth.
In time, my shoulders drop and the knot between my shoulder blades loosens.
This is what I needed.
The stone beneath my hands vibrates with healing energy, and I sink deeper, letting the connection strengthen. My magic aligns and settles, too. My spirit affinity no longer threatening to push beyond my—
Pain explodes across my back.
The force of the hit slams me forward into the stone. My forehead cracks against granite, and stars burst behind my eyes. I taste copper. Blood runs warm down my temple.
"Did you think there wouldn't be consequences?" Laurel's voice cuts through the ringing in my ears.
I roll to the side and throw up a shield on pure instinct. Another blast of magic crashes against it—raw, unrefined power that makes my teeth rattle.
The shield holds, but cracks spiderweb across its surface.
Laurel stands at the edge of the stone circle, her silver hair wild around her face. Her light gray eyes—once so full of wisdom and warmth—burn with something close to madness.
"Everything I built. Everything I worked for. Gone!" She stalks forward, magic crackling around her fists. "Because of you."
"Me? No, you did this to yourself." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. Blood drips down my chin. "You betrayed the Goddess Mother and your friends. You kidnapped innocent witches and drained them. You ruined families and—"
"I was rising to the potential of our kind!" Her scream echoes off the stones. "We were given immense magical potential and then told to live small and to harm none. I wanted to wield true power. Not the soft, watered-down magic the Wiccan world peddles."
She throws a blast of energy, and my shield shatters. She throws another blast and I dodge left. I’m not fast enough and it clips my shoulder. The impact spins me around and I go down hard on one knee. Pain lances through me as her spell sucks the magical energy from me like the leech she is.
"You're crazy—"
"Crazy?" She laughs, harsh and bitter. "I was a goddess, and you took that from me. Maybe I am crazy. You stole my coven, my reputation, why not my sanity—"
"Siphoning real magic from elites didn't make you a goddess. The Goddess Mother blesses us with power. You're just a psychotic bitch and I exposed what a pathetic wannabe you were born and meant to be."