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I tighten my jaw. Subject is a kinder word than slave, but I catch her drift. “Esme would never use it against me. I trust her. With my life, if I must.”
“So, what’s the logistics of this plan? You have Esme perform the ritual to request the offering under false pretense, and then she finds out you deceived her, and all hell breaks loose?”
I swallow hard. Admittedly, I didn’t necessarily think that part through. “I —”
Marta holds a finger up. “If you tell her your plan ahead of time, she’ll refuse to do the ritual. She’d rather die than do something that could harm you, because you’re two fools in love, and you might be putting her happiness first, but she’s putting yours. If you deceive her and force her to do it under false pretenses, she might never forgive you for it. You might be able to save her, against her will and without her consent, but you’ll lose her, too.”
My nails dig into my palm, and my glamour slips until my claws break skin. “That’s something I’m willing to live with, if it means she’ll be safe.”
“I have a better idea.”
I turn to her and wait for her to continue.
“Let me perform the ritual.”
“That’s absolutely not going to happen.”
Marta scoffs. “Why not?”
“Because a witch who can request offerings from the Beyond is a dangerous one,” I say through gritted teeth. And Marta still has to prove she can live up to her cousin’s legacy.
“Are you going to tell me whatever spell it requires, I’m not going to learn it anyway from the grimoire, sooner or later? I might as well learn it now, when it can be helpful.” Before she can retort anything, she continues, “Unlike Esme, I have no reason to back out of this. You and I are on the same side of this because we want what’s best for her, not you — no offense. So like it or not, I’m your best bet here.”
She’s right, I don’t like it. But I also can’t deny everything she just said is true.
“You have to promise you’ll keep this between us until we have the book of sigils,” I say. Then, I let the entirety of my glamour slip, standing next to her in my true form.
Marta gasps, eyes wide, her hands jumping to her mouth to silence any louder sounds from escaping it. The air turns a deep smoke and sulfur smell.
“And if you’re using this as a way to get your hands on my sigils, witchling, know I have at least a dozen ways in which I can kill you.”
She eyes me up and down, from the long horns sprouting from my head, to the wings tucked at my back, to the claws at my hands. When she realizes my transformation has shredded my clothes, she yelps and draws her eyes back up to my face.
She holds a hand out toward me. “I promise I’m only doing this for Esme. You’ll just have to trust my intentions are good.”
I eye her offering, try to scent any sign of deception in her emotions, but she seems genuine. With a sigh, I extend my much larger hand to engulf hers, and we shake.
And for the second time in just a few months, I’m making a deal with a witch.
chapter 55
all soul’s day
esmeralda
We huddle under one umbrella, Tei as the tallest of the group holding it up for all three of us, as we make our way through the cemetery to the family mausoleum. Dusk paints the headstones shades of purple and orange, and as we keep walking deeper and deeper into the cemetery, night chases the daylight away, carrying darkness with it. Marta mumbles a spell, casting a light that hovers in front of us like a lantern that rain can’t snuff out.
“So is this some kind of family tradition?” I ask my cousin.
She shrugs. “Yes and no. It’s not something the family does together, if that’s what you’re going at, but it is something one of us does every year.”
My shoulders deflate, and I don’t know if it’s because of relief or sadness. Maybe a mix of both. I know, cerebrally, that Marta’s mother and grandmother knowing about me would cause a decent set of headaches; they’ve all written off Borje’s line as extinct, and have been operating as such. Me coming back into the picture would put a wrench in that.
Which would be a bridge we’d have to cross, if I was going to stick around, but knowing I’m only here for five more days — it’s not worth putting Marta in that position. I trust her to do the right thing, when it comes to protecting the grimoire and its immense power, and carrying on our family legacy the way I would’ve done. That’s enough.
And yet, a part of me is sad that I won’t get to meet two more members of my family, two more witches of my own blood.
Before we can reach the mausoleum, we pass a wandering ghost. I band an arm across Tei’s chest, and it causes him to stop. Marta, who’s standing on his other side, takes a few more steps before catching on.
