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Evelyn pointed to a sketch Aster had drawn. “The entrance of the tomb allows the light of the sun to cast straight through the center, but only on one evening of the year, autumn equinox.”
“Which is when?
“Tomorrow,” Evelyn breathed. “That’s if she has all the parts of the spell.”
Kade muttered a curse. That gave them little time to prepare against the White Lady, if she planned to perform the spell then and there.
“With the age of the tomb and the power of the sun’s light, the White Lady could conjure any spell she wished, even with the forces of dark magic,” Evelyn said. “There is a chance she does not have all the parts of the spell, though. The body parts could be a portion or only a small part.”
“True, but we cannot afford to assume that is the case. It is too much of a risk.”
“I agree.”
For a few moments, Kade sat in silence, night fully upon them. They had so much to plan, and so little time to do it, but he believed they could.
“Together,” he said. “For Aster.”
Evelyn gave him a curt nod. “For Aster.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Evelyn
Kade and Commissioner Doyle had spread the whisperings of a vigil to honor the women who had passed on. By midday, said whisperings were so wild, they’d threaded themselves into the wind. Those who lived in the villages outside of Callum, even those from towns miles over, had ventured to the harbor.
Yet, the whisperings were only whisperings, not plans to light candles and talk of the dead. They were a distraction, something to egg on the White Lady to follow through with the spell or whatever she had planned. Everyone had gathered together to wait out the fight, too.
Kade encouraged strength in numbers. He instructed everyone to stay indoors once the sun went down. Miss Patricia had cried as she watched them leave, holding her apron for dear life as Commissioner Doyle put an arm around her shoulder.
Many had offered to accompany them. McKenna’s brother and father. Aster’s parents. Tessa and Aaron along with her family. Even Mr. Kerry, Fiona’s father, had shown up, hatchet in hand. Yet, Kade and Evelyn had refused. They appreciated the support, the sentiment, and witnessed Callum’s honor in wanting to bring justice to those they’d lost, but they’d asked everyone to stay behind to protect one another. Evelyn and Kade needn’t shed more blood and also needed their wits about them. They couldn’t afford to protect anyone while they focused on killing the White Lady.
On foot, they ventured northeast toward Newgrange. Kade wore a sleeveless tunic and linen trousers and assured Evelyn they were enchanted to grow with him when he shifted into his werewolf form. Made from the silk of prairie worms, they appeared dainty but were utterly indestructible. He winked when he explained that fighting in the nude wasn’t ideal.
Kade also wore his Drengr sword strapped to his back, the crest visible at the hilt. He’d had it stamped that morning after Evelyn had encouraged him to, adamant he go into this fight as Kade Drengr. He’d not argued, seemingly content to restore his sword to its original glory.
Evelyn wore leather trousers, tighter than she was used to and a leather corset strapped over a tunic, one easy to move in but enchanted to act as armor. She’d twisted her hair around her staff, keeping it smoothed away from her face. She felt secure, oddly armored as if she were again on the Guard back home. Kade took her hand, running his thumb over her fingers. They said nothing. Everything shone in their eyes. His gold, reminiscent of the sun setting, and Evelyn’s silvery blue, like the rim of the moon still awaiting nightfall.
They’d devised their plan before they’d left Callum. Discussed every possible scenario. They’d studied the few layouts of Newgrange. They both knew what they needed to do.
As they continued over the hills and into the first few moments of the sun’s descent, the mound became visible beyond a rolling hill patchy with rock and wilted buttercups. It appeared like a rising green sun in the distance, too perfect to be a hill and rimmed with a base of stone.
“Do you think it’s powerful enough for a spell?” Kade asked.
Unlike Castle Connacht or Lake Glenn, no darkness lay in the wind or air here. The breeze over the land smelled of the winter prowling from farther north, but Evelyn’s magic detected nothing else. Not even the spirits or souls buried within or whomever it honored. Compared to the Gray Wood, it didn’t appear alive either. It was simply a tomb, but its age and intactness were breathtaking—older than witches or werewolves. It was a wonder time had not left its mark.
Evelyn nodded in answer to Kade’s question. “Its age alone could be enough. Dark magic is also different from regular magic. Wickedness and intent can feed it. Considering the White Lady’s power, I’d say this spot would work well for her.”
As they grew closer, they saw smoke against the evening sky rising from the center. Through the open entrance, a fire flickered.
“Someone’s inside,” Evelyn said as they crept down the hill.
Kade nodded. “I can hear them moving about. A woman’s voice. Muttering. I’ve also detected a scent. Familiar, too.”
“A scent?”
“Licorice.”
For a moment, Evelyn tried to hear and sense what Kade had mentioned, forgetting his werewolf senses outmatched hers. Though he wasn’t Cyrus the huntsman any longer, he was still the same man. Kind, thoughtful, loyal. She supposed he’d been Kade all along, and it had only been his werewolf that had been missing, something she was still learning more and more about.
