“Sebastian promised to assign each of you a demon protector, charged with guarding you against hunters and—should she discover my trickery and come searching for you again—your mother. For many years, your guardians did just that, and though I quickly grew to despise Sebastian, I took comfort and joy in knowing that you were all safe. For the first time since you were born, I was beginning to feel like I could breathe again. Your mother believed you were dead. And the guardians were keeping you from danger. To me, every moment spent with Sebastian felt like an investment in your future, and it was a small price to pay.
“Sadly and regrettably, like most desperate people standing at the crossroads, I failed to read the fine print.” At this, she looked up to meet my gaze again, her own burning with shame. “What I didn’t realize, Gray, was that in addition to protecting you for the rest of your life, Sebastian would lay claim to your soul upon your natural death.”
“All of us?” I asked, alarmed.
Deirdre shook her head. “All of you are spoken of in the prophecy—the witches who would ultimately unite our kind. But Gray, only you are the third daughter of a third daughter. The powerful Shadowborn witch foretold to lead the covens. That was the power Sebastian most craved.”
“I still don’t understand how you could make a crossroads deal with someone else’s soul,” I said. “Mysoul. It wasn’t yours to bargain with.”
Inside, I felt my dark magic swirl, pulsing into my blood, looking for an outlet. My mind was screaming at me to put that woman through the wall, but apparently the hawthorn was keeping me in check.
At least, that’s what I was telling myself. If not, I’d have to admit that my heart was breaking for her. That if this were merely a story about someone else’s life, I’d already be cheering for the old woman to come out on top, despite all her missteps.
That she’d wanted to protect us was clear. That she’d truly believed she was doing the right thing was clear.
But none of that changed the outcome, and that’s the part I just couldn’t get past.
“You were a baby, Gray,” she said. “A minor child.”
“This isn’t family court,” I snapped. “Why would my minor status make a difference?”
“No. I fear you would’ve had a better chance in family court.” Deirdre offered a quick smile, but it didn’t touch her eyes. “In the court of hell, only Sebastian’s rules matter. As your sole guardian at the time, I was able to assume temporary power and dominion over your soul, which allowed me to make the deal for your protection and sign it with my own blood on your behalf.”
“But it’s not your blood he’s after now,” Haley said.
“No. That honor goes to the Silversbane witches. You four, and your mother, of course, though she’s managed to evade him thus far—a fact that torments him endlessly.”
“What is it that makes Silversbane blood so special?” Haley asked. “There has to be more to it than magic words in an ancient prophecy.”
Deirdre sighed. Under the guise of making more tea, she got up from her chair and headed to the stove, but it was obvious she was merely steeling herself for the rest of the story.
The tension in the room felt thick and sticky, and my sisters and I exchanged dark glances, just as rattled as Deirdre seemed to be. Even without speaking the words, I knew we shared the same understanding: things were about to get even more complicated—for all of us.
“Thereismore to it than the prophecy,” Deirdre confirmed, her back to us as she watched the flames flicker to life beneath the tea kettle. “Alotmore.”
Fifteen
GRAY
Time slowed to an impossible crawl as we waited for Deirdre to prepare her tea, my sisters and I perched on the edges of our chairs, desperate to hear the rest of the story.
My mind was swirling with possibilities, none of them good.
By the time Deirdre rejoined us at the table, the only thing I knew for certain was that nothing she revealed, nothing she said, nothing she did would ever come between me and my sisters again.
“Your matrilineal ancestors lived in what we now know as Ireland,” Deirdre began, and my sisters drew closer to me. I reached for each of their hands beneath the table, clasping them tightly, making physical the connection I’d already been feeling. Magic hummed in their veins, calling out to mine as we touched, wrapping us all in a blanket of support and rightness.
It felt like coming home after a day spent trekking through the snow, that first wave of welcoming warmth as you opened the door, the rich scent of hot chocolate beckoning you to step inside and take off your boots, slide into your slippers, and come sit by the fireplace.
“They were among the first witches chosen by the elemental source as guardians of the earth’s magic,” she continued, and I nodded—she’d told me that part of the story the day we’d met in Las Vegas, when I’d first learned about the Silversbane prophecy. “At that time,” she said, “the fae, who were among earth’s first inhabitants, had already been living here for eons. They’d had their own magic, and had successfully connected with earth’s innate magic to become quite powerful beings—perhaps even more so here than they’d been even in their home realms. So you can understand why they’d be reluctant to share. They were not pleased to learn that the source had gifted humans access to that magic, as well as naming them its sole guardians.”
“They’ve always believed magic was their domain,” I said. “They’ve never fully trusted us—that hasn’t changed.”
“No, it hasn’t,” Deirdre agreed, blowing across the top of her tea, making the steam swirl before her. “This is all legend, of course, but there is always some kernel of truth to be found there. As the tale was told to me, the fae decided that the best way to keep the magic within their sphere of influence was to mate with the first witches and mages, creating a new, even more powerful fae bloodline, melding the best of both magics.”
“But witches can’t become pregnant by supernaturals,” I said.
“Not naturally, no,” Deirdre said. “But with a bit of fae magic, all things were thought possible.”
