Back then, God stepped in before the carnage could spill into the mortal realm, an event that would’ve no doubt obliterated his precious human experiment. But that, as all the scholars of old and new agree, was a one-time intervention.
If that sort of war broke out again? And the portal isn’t stabilized, but left in the guardianship of untrained, untested witches, two of whom don’t even believe magic exists?
No one survives it. Not even us.
“Merri, if ever there was a time to see it through…” Warren taps the table, his knee bouncing beneath it. I’ve not seen him so worked up before. “You need to find the book, convince them to transfer the guardianship, and get back here so we can help Matthias deal with this rebellion. The literal fate of the world is at stake.”
I open my mouth to tell him I don’t give a rat’s bleeding arsehole about the state of the world—a world that never gave an arsehole about me, bleeding or otherwise. But then I seeMiss Bonnivarde in my mind’s eye. Her bright eyes. Her quiet strength. And I know I could no more leave her to her fate than I could leave my best mates.
“I will continue to do everything in my power to find the book, train the witches, and claim guardianship. But it’s no simple task. They’re all as naïve about their history as we suspected. The older two don’t even believe magic is real, let alone the nuances of their complicated family legacy. In their eyes, their mother simply abandoned them, and now they’re here to settle her worldly affairs and return to their normal lives.”
“Then how in the bleeding Hell are you training them?” Oliver asks.
“I’m starting with Elizabeth Bonnivarde—the youngest. She’s the most open. The others will come round eventually. Or not; it only takes one to transfer the power.”
“And you’re certain she’s strong enough?”
“Absolutely. She’s quite astute, the young witch.” Thinking of her again brings an involuntary smile to my face, and at their inquisitive stares, I rush to explain. “A professor’s dream. Very eager to learn. Very eager. And a channel, at that! She’s already connected with the spirits of her ancestors, as well as visions from her deceased mother. Even without the grimoire, she’s quite adept at sensing emotional and energetic signatures. Just watching her explore her newly discovered sensory perceptions… it’s a marvel, really.She’sa marvel. There’s so much more I want to teach her—we’ve barely scratched the surface, and I’m already devising new lesson plans and techniques to explore.”
I tell them about our meetings, the experiments in the woods, the Tarot books.
I donottell them about the satin-smooth feel of her skin against my thumb, the fire in her eyes, the near-miss kiss that haunts me as eagerly as any graveyard ghost.
When I finally pause for breath, I realize no one else has said a word in quite some time. I’ve been prattling on about Miss Bonnivarde for far longer than necessary. Which is no indicationwhatsoeverof inappropriate feelings or distractions from the mission; quite frankly, she’s the primary vessel through which my task will be accomplished, ergo, she makes up the bulk of my mission reports at this time.
“Our circumstances may be dire,” I finish up, attempting to inject a bit of optimism into our situation, “but I must confess. The youngest Bonnivarde is a real positive in all this. Academically speaking, of course. She’s far more open and engaged than I’d anticipated. Quite eager.”
“So you keep saying,” Oliver says, with a certain gleam in his eye that typically precedes a barb. “Again and again.”
“And?” I snap.
“And nothing.”
“I’m sensing a tone.”
“No tone. Just an honest curiosity.” His grin is smug and annoying. “I feel like I should be taking notes. Will there be a quiz later?”
Warren laughs, the bleeding traitor. “Pretty sure you haven’t said this many words in a row before without pausing to insult one of us.”
“Yet now you’ve gone and ruined it, you absolute troll.”
“That’s more like it,” he replies, and now they’re both laughing.
“Personally, I find it rather intriguing,” Oliver says. “You have soverymuch to say about the witch you only just recently called… what was he said again, Warren?”
Warren taps his chin. “Something about… let’s see. Oh, yes. Teenagers who don’t know a demonic portal from a hole in the?—”
“Enough. You’ve made your point. Both of you.”
“Have we, though?” At this, Warren turns serious. “Stay focused up there, Merri. I don’t care howeagershe is. You have a job to do.”
“I’m aware, thank you.”
“You also need to see for yourself what’s going on in the lower realms. Ollie and I will cover for you with Matthias—tell him you gave us a mundane report that things are progressing smoothly.”
“That would be most helpful. Thank you.”
I show them out, eager to spend just a few moments alone in my beloved archives before joining them for the so-called rebellion tour.
