“We arenotgoing to let that happen.” Warren places a hand on Rachel’s shoulder, but she snarls at him like she might just bite it off. Wisely, he snatches it back, though I fear her feisty response will only encourage him. He’s already got that gleam in his eye.
“It’s natural to feel defenseless now,” I say, “especially after your ordeal tonight. But once you’ve harnessed your magic, it will feel different.”
“He’s right, Rach.” Elizabeth offers a kind smile. “I bet you’re an amazing witch. You’ll see.”
In a shocking turn of events, the eldest witch actually returns her sister’s smile.
Splendid! If we can accomplish peace among the sisters Bonnivarde, perhaps there’s hope for staving off the apocalypse yet.
Rachel takes a breath. Reclaims her chair. Sips her tea. Then, with a calmness I wasn’t sure she was capable of, “So… what happens next, really? I know a lot of those guys died tonight, but they’re still out there, right?”
“Next,” says Elizabeth, glaring at me, “someonein this room owes someone else a big, fat apology. But we’re not naming names,Dr. Merrick Sutherland.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I say. “Obviously I’m?—”
“Ourimmediateconcerns,” says Warren, even as Elizabeth continues to glare, “are threefold. Firstly, you’re correct in that while the Wielders suffered a major loss, a good deal escaped, and we have no idea how vast their overall network stretches. That puts the three of you inextremedanger, long before talk of demon incursions.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Rachel replies.
“The hunters will not so readily give up what they view as their right to unlimited power. Remember, they’ve been after your family for hundreds of years. Now, even with the grimoire destroyed, they’re closer than ever.”
Kate finally turns from the window. “I think I need to go outside.”
“Come sit with me, love. It’s raining out there.” Oliver, who’s barely left her side, guides her to the loveseat. Her sisters exchange a quick glance.
“Shock,” I say softly. “Should wear off soon enough.”
“I still can’t believe our mother left us with this,” Rachel says. “Like, she could’ve at least given us some instructions. A warning. Something.” Then, on a deep sigh, “Warren, you said your concerns were threefold. What else?”
He seems to rally at the sound of his name on her lips. I try not to roll my eyes.
“Yes, as I was saying… the second issue is the condition of the portal. It requires constant upkeep. And while Elizabeth and Merrick have made great strides, it’s still disintegrating quicker than they can maintain it. There are safeguards in place—checkpoints designed to prevent unsummoned demons from manifesting at will—but even those seem to be failing, which is how Ozikai likely slipped through. It’s only now that we realize the whole thing is being orchestrated by Matthias. What he’s promised the Wielders is unknown.”
“And the third thing?” Rachel asks. “Please tell me you’re saving the best for last.”
Warren drains his tea. Takes a moment to gather his thoughts, which is unusual for the normally boisterous demon. When he finally speaks, his tone is grave. “The magical interference on the portal… it’s not just demonic interference. Oliver and I found trace magic at the checkpoints—destructive magic—that can only come from witchcraft.”
“What?” I nearly choke on my tea. “Why haven’t you mentioned this before?”
Elizabeth lights up. Offers me an exaggerated pout. “Sooonot fun when your friends keep secrets, huh?”
“There was no point in worrying you until we had enough to go on,” Warren says. “We wanted to ascertain the power behind it first—see if we could narrow down the possible family lines.”
“Well?” I ask. “Have you?”
“We hadn’t… until tonight.”
“Blood magic, mate,” Oliver says. “Same shit they used on the Devil’s traps that nailed us to the floor.”
“Wait,” I say, trying to connect the dots. “Are you saying?—”
“I’m saying,” Oliver says, “hunters and chaos demons weren’t the only threat at that party tonight. Blood witches are mixed up in this, too. And it looks like the whole lot of ‘em are one big dysfunctional family, all ready to usher in the end of the world and gather up the spoils.”
“Which is shit thinking on their part,” Warren adds. “If all goes according to plan, the portal collapses, starting a chain reaction that breaks down the realms of Hell and sets its worst-of-the-worst abominations free. Daylight would cease to exist. Shadows would swallow the earthly realm, dragging chaos and terror in their wake. Humans wouldn’t survive. Nothing would survive. Only that pure, unchecked chaos. The Wielders and their co-conspiring blood witches are so blinded by greed, by their need to dominate, it never occurs to them that they’re just pawns in a much larger play. One that will annihilate them as surely as it will all the other humans on this fucking planet.”
The six of us sit in dreary silence, letting the tea go cold.
At long last, when it seems nothing further can be said without shattering the last of the witches’ peace, Warren rises from his chair. To Oliver and me, he says, “Will you two be all right without me for an hour? I was thinking I’d run by the cottage, fetch Medusa.”
