Chapter Forty-Five
Katherine woke to sandpaper on her cheek.
No, not sandpaper—Cheez-It’s tongue, grooming her in a way that was both extremely adorable and incredibly painful. She shifted, gathering Cheez-It in her arms, stopping the scratch of his tongue but at the cost of setting her ribs on fire.
The door opened, and Fiona walked into the room. “You’re alive!” Fiona exclaimed, running to the bed and wrapping her arms around Katherine. Katherine grunted in pain, but she couldn’t help but smile.
“I’m alive?” she said. “You’re alive, Fi! Thank fucking god.”
“Thank fucking Tess.” Fiona perched herself on the edge of the bed, taking over petting Cheez-It’s back while Katherine petted his head.
“She pulled me out of the parking lot, dragged your unconscious body all the way back here, and then played sexy nursemaid as I recovered from my embarrassingly quick exit from the battle with the big bad. Speaking of, could we come up with a cooler story to tell people about how I wound up getting my ass handed to me?”
Katherine laughed, the motion reverberating through every one of her aching muscles. “If you want, but I don’t think you need to. You were remarkably brave, Fiona. You saved me. You’re a hero.”
Fiona blushed. “Well. For reference, then, I would like a medal and a cookie.”
“You got it.”
Katherine took stock of her body—present and accounted for, even though she wished that the more painful parts of it would consider departing for a bit.
Most of her cuts had already sealed, her bruises further along than they should’ve been.
Fiona’s hands were wrapped in gauze, concealing newly done cuts. Healing spells, Katherine realized.
Fiona nodded at Katherine’s palms, which she realized were wrapped in bandages of their own.
“Couldn’t do anything about those, unfortunately,” Fiona said. “That whole no-using-magic-to-heal-a-cut-used-to-do-magic thing can be a bitch sometimes.”
Katherine huffed a laugh. “Literally blood on my hands, huh?”
There was an awkward pause. “Is everyone else okay?” Katherine finally asked, unable to wait any longer.
“Everyone made it out,” Fiona said. “Tess did a good job clearing the area, pre–saving me. We were in the middle of figuring out how we were going to save you when Silas carried you out of the building as it was literally falling apart. It was very hot.”
Katherine made herself smile, but her focus was still on her hands.
She turned them over in her lap as she felt for her magic.
It was normal again, that calm well she had come to expect.
Her blood was just blood, her veins just veins.
But she could still feel the phantom of that unsettled power, haunting her with painful memories.
Fiona paused, biting her lip, cutting Kathrine’s thoughts with an instant pang of anxiety. “Silas wants to talk to you. When you’re feeling up to it.”
Katherine tried to sit up, but Fiona pushed her back down. “When you’re feeling up to it, Katherine. I have a feeling this isn’t a conversation you’re going to want to rush into.”
Katherine leaned her head back. Her feelings for Silas were a minefield. She wasn’t sure there was a way to sort through them without causing a detonation.
“So Sunspot is…?”
Fiona shook her head. “Gone.” She kept the sadness out of her voice—barely. Katherine couldn’t escape the guilt that flooded her.
“Not your fault,” Fiona said. “You did what you had to do.”
“I snapped and burned down our home, Fi. No one had to do that.”
“You incapacitated Sylvia. Who knows how many lives that saved.”
Katherine swallowed. “How many kids did she make snap?”
Fiona ran her hand along Cheez-It’s back, scratching until he raised his butt high off the bed. “At least five in Southern California so far. Silas’ friend Anika brought one to Niles, and we have witches out searching for the others.”
Five in their small area meant there were dozens more elsewhere. “How far out do the snaps go?”
Fiona bit her lip. “We’re hearing reports from all around the world. It seems like it was most concentrated on the West Coast, but Sylvia’s reach was global.”
Katherine cursed under her breath. That kind of chaos … it would be impossible to undo. There would never be a way to track the full extent of Sylvia’s destruction, the amount of lives tainted by her fucked-up choices.
“This whole thing has been a real exercise in team-building for Aestas,” Fiona said.
“Everyone is very rah-rah, all hands on deck. George is even coming down from Oak Grove to help. He was appalled to hear what happened with Sylvia. Unlike Henry, who just mumbled about how this was going to mean a ton of paperwork for him.”
Fiona was trying to keep the mood light, but Katherine could see the stress on her face.
It would be months, maybe years, of work to find every witch Sylvia had snapped, and the longer they were out there alone, the more people would get hurt.
The more people they would hurt, permanent stains on their conscience.
So many lives ruined. By Sylvia.
Fiona seemed to sense what she was thinking. “She’s alive.”
Katherine sucked in a breath. She didn’t know what she’d wanted to hear.
“A bunch of armed guys from Noctis showed up like ten minutes after the fight ended and found her in the rubble,” Fiona said, filling in the weighted silence.
“She was barely breathing, but they healed her. They took her back to New York for trial. None of us even got to talk to her—she was still unconscious when they took her away.”
Katherine tried to hold back the flood of emotion, but she couldn’t. “God,” she said. “I shouldn’t be this upset. She’s a murderer.”
“Sylvia did some fucked-up shit, but that doesn’t change how important she was in so many lives before she went off the deep end,” Fiona said softly. “She saved all of us, in one way or another. You’re allowed to mourn the loss of that person.”
Katherine leaned back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling.
She wondered what would happen to Sylvia.
She’d likely spend the rest of her life in Noctis custody.
There was a chance that the coven would turn her over to the actual police, but that seemed unlikely—they’d want to keep this under wraps, desperate to avoid the negative attention Sylvia’s actions would bring to the witch community.
Fiona reached into her pocket and pulled out an object, setting it on the bed. Katherine stared at it, running through the gamut of emotions once again.
Her caster. The one Sylvia had given her, all those years ago. It had been taken from her before she was thrown in the cell. She’d figured she’d never see it again—and yet, here it was.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want this back,” Fiona said. “But I wanted you to have the choice.”
Katherine stared at it. She wasn’t sure who Sylvia was to her now. Fiona was right—she couldn’t change who Sylvia had been to her in the past. The Sylvia who had found her, who had trained her, who had raised her—that Sylvia would be a part of her forever.
But the Sylvia who had killed Lily. The Sylvia who had snapped all those poor witches. The Sylvia who had attacked her, who had forced her to take the thing of her nightmares into her body once again. That Sylvia was nothing to her. And Katherine was past ready to let her go.
The caster would be a constant reminder of her. Every time she did magic, she’d think of Sylvia. Of all the signs she’d missed. All the ways she could have prevented what happened.
All the love she’d received. All the moments when Sylvia was the only one who truly saw her.
All that Sylvia had given her, and all that she’d taken.
Katherine reached for the knife and took it. Fiona placed a hand on top of Katherine’s.
“Rest,” she said, then handed Katherine a piece of paper with a downtown address written on it. “And when you’re feeling better, Silas will be here.”
Katherine nodded, and then her head fell back onto the bed, and she was gone again.
Silas smoothed his tie, taking a moment to center himself before answering the knock at the door. He’d had a few minutes to prepare, seconds on seconds of anxiety after the security guard had alerted him that Katherine had finally arrived.
Two days earlier, he’d seen her almost die, and his heart had felt like it had been ripped out of his chest.
One day earlier, he’d learned there was much, much more to the story than he’d realized, and his complicated feelings for her had grown even thornier.
One hour earlier, he’d paced this office, debating what he would do when she walked through that door.
And now? He still had no fucking clue.
But he’d kept her waiting long enough, so he forced himself up.
Forced himself not to wrap his arms around Katherine as he opened the door and was flooded with the pure relief of seeing her alive.
Forced himself not to grind his teeth at the bruises and burns that covered her body, worse mirrors of the ones on his own.
More than a few of which had come as a result of her saving his life—something he feared she might come to regret.
He didn’t know how to greet her, so he simply grunted as she entered, then moved back to the other side of the desk.
He’d commandeered an office in one of Khatri International’s buildings for a few days as he dealt with the mess that was Los Angeles.
It was airy and well-lit, and it made him want to claw his eyes out.
He didn’t belong in places like this. He belonged in jail.
And Katherine, he supposed, belonged there with him.
She hovered by the door, staring at him with wide eyes. She looked terrified. Terrified of him.
And maybe she should be.
He was the new head of the most powerful coven in the country, and she had crossed him.
“Silas, I—”
He cut her off with a look. “I’m not here to discuss personal matters, Ms. Barnes.”