Click.
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
“Uh… Tamsin?” Goldie’s voice came out as a shaky whisper. She knew it wasn’t her, but in the heart-stopping terror of the moment, it was the only name her brain could find.
“She’s occupied,” said a calm, steady, and terrifyingly familiar voice from the dark. “But I’m sure she’ll be right with us.”
Slowly, Goldie turned, every movement measured and careful.
A figure stepped into the clearing, emerging through a break in the hedge wall.
For one impossible heartbeat, her mind refused to accept what she was seeing.
“Jonah?” she breathed.
Jonah Pell stood just inside the circle, a gun steady in his hands. His face was drawn, etched with a resigned expression.
“Jonah, what…” Her throat tightened. “Why are you pointing that thing at me?”
“I’m sorry, Goldie,” Jonah said. His voice cracked as he spoke her name. “You really are a lovely woman. But this isn’t personal.”
“People pointing guns at me always say that,” she whispered.
“Well, actually, itispersonal,” a second voice purred. “Just not with you, dear.”
Goldie’s head snapped toward the entrance of the Grove Core’s heart.
Tamsin strolled into the clearing with effortless grace, her presence spilling in like sweet, suffocating perfume. In front of her was Splice, bound in thick cords of shimmering silver light. The magic coiled tightly around his torso and arms, pinning them to his sides. He stumbled as the spell jerked him forward, like a marionette yanked on invisible strings.
“Tamsin—” Goldie started, but her coven leader simply flicked her wrist casually, and silver cords shot outward like striking snakes. They wrapped tightly around her chest and arms, squeezing the breath from her as simultaneously they yanked her violently to her knees.
Tamsin gestured again, and Splice lurched forward as though shoved by an invisible hand. His knees buckled as he was forced to his knees beside Goldie.
Jonah lowered his pistol, the gesture slow and defeated.
“Tamsin?” Goldie’s voice came out thin, edged with confusion and rising fear. She looked helplessly at the coven leader who had guided her, mentored her, shared wine and gossip and spell work.
The first question that made it through the fog was stupidly mundane. “How did you even get in here?”
Tamsin smiled, slow and indulgent. “Please, darling. Do you think I don’t know how to bypass a few municipal wards? Those charms are practically decorative.”
She turned slightly, catching Jonah’s eye. “Be a dear and anoint the southern marker, won’t you?”
From her pocket, she produced a small dark vial and tossed it to him. He caught it cleanly and moved to obey without a word.
Goldie stared, disbelief locking her in place as firmly as the cords around her. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a nightmare, some glamour wound too tight to see the seams.
Beside her, Splice gave a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the clearing. The silver light binding him shivered in response but didn’t break.
“So,” Tamsin said lightly, as if addressing guests at a dinner party, “do you want to tell them, or should I?”
Jonah shifted, gaze fixed on the ground. “Why do we need to tell them anything?”
Tamsin moved toward the center of the clearing, her skirts whispering against the moss. She knelt and began to pour a thin circle of salt.
“Because, according to my research, understanding is a key component of this particular working,” she said sweetly. “I’m not just indulging in theatrics, darling. It’s essential to the magic.”
