Katherine nodded. She knew the feeling—grief was not a consistent mistress. One moment, she’d be so weighed down that she couldn’t move; the next, she’d be allowed to go on living her life as normal, lulling her into a false sense of security until it grabbed her by the ankles and sent her sprawling down again.
“I don’t know how to move on from this,” Katherine said quietly.
Sylvia had been her sole confidant as a teen, staying up all night while Katherine cried into her shoulder. But as she’d gotten older, their relationship had grown more professional—drifting apart by gradual degrees. It was slow, the distance between them still minuscule, but sometimes Katherine looked at the few inches of space and it felt like a chasm. Like if she took one wrong step, she’d fall in, and no one would come and get her.
But then Sylvia squeezed Katherine’s hand, and that space was gone.
“This is…” Sylvia trailed off. “I’ve worked my whole life to prevent any other kids from having to go through this, and then something like this happens, and I feel like I haven’t gotten anywhere at all.”
“You have. You’ve done so much.”
“We both have. We can’t forget that.”
Katherine stared out the window, trying to let herself believe that that was true, even as her brain swirled with all of the things she could have done. All of the steps she could have taken. She’d gotten distracted from her mission. She wouldn’t let herself get distracted like that again. There was too much at stake.
“She looked like me.” Katherine’s voice was almost a whisper. “Like I used to.”
“I know.”
Katherine bit her lip. “Thank you. For finding me. For making sure I didn’t wind up… like that.”
Sylvia reached over, putting a finger under Katherine’s chin and lifting her face up so that their eyes met. “I will always find you, Katherine. Every time.”
The tear fell before Katherine could blink it away. Sylvia wiped it off with a smooth finger, then pulled back, giving her a thin smile. “God, you were so young when I met you. Where does the time go?”
Katherine laughed. “We’re both old birds now, Syl.”
“Oh, please. You don’t get to call yourself old until menopause.”
This time, Katherine’s laugh was full and real, and for a shining moment, she felt like her old self. Still partially broken—she always would be—but capable of joy. Hope. Happiness.
But then Sylvia pulled her hands away, her face shuttering again and those few inches of distance streaming back in. She’d been working so hard, and the emotional impact of what happened to Lily had to make her efforts at fixing the wards even tougher.
“Can I at least try to help with the wards?” Katherine asked.
“No, it’s fine. I can do it.”
“Fixing them in this short of time would be a lot for even the most powerful witch. I can—”
“I said no, Katherine,” Sylvia snapped. “If I thought you could help, I would have asked. The wards need to be fixed, not blown up by an emotional amateur.”
Katherine blinked away her hurt expression. Sylvia had made comments on her magic skills before, but never so blunt. She was on edge, Katherine reminded herself, nervous about Silas and upset about Lily. Witches in their care had snapped before, but never so publicly or so extremely—and never with the risk of Noctis breathing down their necks.
“Right. Of course.”
Katherine had another thing she needed to ask, but after that, it was even harder to get herself to push the question out—especially when she had a good idea of what the answer would be. She just had to do it.It’s not that hard. Just open your mouth and say it.
Katherine hadn’t gone to Sylvia to update her after she left Silas. Instead, she’d spent the previous evening doing exactly what Sylvia had told her not to do: trailing Byron Chambers across the city, trying to find proof that he was responsible for making the altum she had found in the police station.
As soon as she saw that bag on the evidence table, she pieced it together. Byron must have given Lily the altum when they spoke at the coven meeting, told her it was something that would take the edge off. Stressed, she ran into Hollywood and Highland and took the thing she’d been promised would help. And then she snapped.
Byron Chambers was the reason Lily was dead, and Katherine was going to spend every waking moment making sure he paid for it.
To do that, though, she needed evidence—evidence he wasdetermined not to give her. She had followed him until the sun went down, until the headache from the overuse of her magic forced her back to her apartment for some sleep. She’d gotten exactly nothing out of it—he was infuriatingly normal, going from work to dinner to drinks to home, all with the same shit-eating,Fuck you, Katherine, you’ll never catch megrin on his face.
He was too good. Too good at seeming too privileged and perfect to bother taking the risk of making altum. Too good at gaslighting her into thinking that she could’ve been wrong about him all along.
She needed to find proof that she wasn’t.
