“This feels like a terrible idea,”Milas says. He stands to my left, clothed in the customary orange of the autumnal witches. To my right, Beatrice and Amelia wear dresses and tights, their hair twisted into matching double braids.
We all look ridiculous. Black is by far the most popular color worn in the Night Realm, and even when I lived amongst my kind, Istilldidn’t wear orange or yellow or any other color. Since before my sixth birthday, I’ve never worn anything butblack. The color of death, of mourning, of my long-rotted heart.
With a yellow long-sleeved dress and white leggings, I look like an imposter. Iaman imposter.
“It is a terrible idea,” Beatrice agrees. She plucks at the loose fabric of her dress, lips twitching with distaste. “If the witches don’t kill us, Sebastian will.”
“He’s not going to find out,” I say. Harder than I should, maybe. “We’ll tell him if we succeed. If we don’t, he doesn’t need to know.”
“Relax,” Beatrice says on a lengthy sigh. “Unless it’s directly related to Grace’s vagina, Sebastian is clueless.”
“Gross,” Amelia says.
I agree, with both of them.
Rather than continuingthatconversation, I take stock of our surroundings. We’re on the edge of Ochre Village, facing a long-rusted metal archway. It spells out Ochre in black letters, and around the text, a series of bloodied thumbprints stain the pale yellow background.
It’s tradition amongst the witches. Every coven leader in history has their fingerprint on their village’s sign. My mother’s thumbprint is somewhere on the Hayver sign outside my birthplace. Distantly, I wonder if Margot ever became a coven leader like she planned, if her thumbprint is amongst the bloodied marks overhead.
I clear my throat, swallowing an unexpected lump.
I blame this morning’s memory. Even though I’ve since forgotten it, the memory has undoubtedly stirred my emotions. It’s made me feel reckless, anxious, uncertain. The Cora of today isnotafraid, and I remind myself of that as I address the inner circle.
“I’ll go alone,” I say. “Stay close. Listen for my signal, and don’t approach unless you hear it. Remember, you won’t beable to come inside, so if she pulls me in, don’t try to save me.”
“And what, leave you here?” Beatrice asks with a snort. She ducks to my height, eyes narrowing into slits. “Let’s be clear, Cora. We’re not leaving you with these freaks.”
I run my tongue over the back of my teeth. I’ve got three of five vampiric clan members here, and Sebastian will kill me if I come back without a single one of them. We’re here to,hopefully, negotiate a deal with Virginia to make more sunwalker spells. It’s a long shot, but it’s the best option we’ve got.
“It will be fine,” Beatrice continues. She pulls back, glancing between Milas and Amelia. They nod in agreement. “Either make the deal or retreat. Donotgo inside.”
“I’m going to make the deal,” is my immediate response.
That earns me an eye roll.
I lead the way beneath Ochre Village’s metal archway, a few paces in front of the others. The settlement isn’t warded that I can feel, and I’m not surprised. Of all the witch villages, Ochre is farthest from neutral territory. It’s a trek to get here from the Night Realm, making the risk too great for vampires to take.
Well,mostvampires.
Without a sunwalker spell, most vampires would catch fire if we didn’t make it home before sunrise. These three will just bitch about having to walk as mortals, rather than running with their typical speed.
I clench my jaw as we walk, scanning our surroundings. The streets are empty.The sun is down, and the moon barely provides enough light to show the cobblestone. The village, it seems, has not been updated in the years I’ve been gone.
I’m not surprised. Witches prefer history over maintenance.
“What’s her name again?” Beatrice asks. She’s a step behind me. The other two flank either side, spread out like body guards. It’s a comfort I’m not sure I deserve but appreciate all the same.
Most witches don’t stand a chance against vampires. Not when the sun is down like this. Not when vampires are powerful and hungry, fast and deadly.
“Virginia,” Amelia answers for me.
I’m not surprised she remembers. Where Beatrice and Milas are loud and brash, Amelia has always been one to listen, to observe. When Sebastian brought me into his inner circle twelve years ago, she was the first to welcome me. To trust that I wouldn’t betray them like Beatrice feared.
“Is that right, Cora?” Amelia asks.
I blink twice before looking at her. My brain feels hazy, and it takes me a moment to process what she’s asking.
“Correct,” I say finally. “Virginia is an augur. She has access to a lot of powerful people. She was always kind to me.”
