“Several times a year. Always to the same town. The closest human town to…” Fiona stops. Shakes her head. “To wherever it was she was going. She’d dress with care. Leave at dawn. Be back by evening.” Her hand has lifted to her chin. “She never let me come.” Fiona’s voice becomes quieter. “I asked her once if she had a friend there. She said she was going to keep an appointment.”
I can feel coldness climbing up my arms.
“One time, when she came home from one of those trips,” Fiona continues, “she went straight to her desk, opened this book, and wrote in it. Then, she put it away, and I never saw it again.” Her eyes drop to the page the book is open to. “I remember her face that evening. She seemed…satisfied.” She looks around the room at each of us in turn. “I didn’t know what she was writing.”
Lucas closes the book. “She was checking,” he murmurs.
“On the dates the curse would have run its course,” Lillian says, her voice gentle, “she traveled to the human town nearest the Silvercrest alpha’s territory. Found out whether the alpha had bonded a fated mate that year. Confirmed the mate’s death. Came home. Crossed the alpha’s name out.” She touches Lucas’sarm. “She must have crossed out your father’s name when she learned his fated mate had died.”
“Four generations,” I whisper.
“Four generations of alphas,” Lillian agrees. “Verified by the witches of this bloodline.”
My hand finds Lucas’s where it is gripping the book. He doesn’t let go. His thumb twitches once against my palm.
Lillian comes to Lucas’s other shoulder and looks down at the page. “Lucas, it appears this woman is from the bloodline we’re looking for.”
“And the Covenant has her,” Darius says tightly. “Why?”
Fiona looks rather confused. “What are you all talking about?”
“We can’t tell you. But we need you to tell us everything you remember about the day your aunt went missing.”
I can see the reluctance in her eyes. After crossing slowly to the back door of the cottage, she opens it and looks out into the trees. Then, she speaks without turning around.
“She didn’t run away. The villagers all believed she did, and I never contradicted them.” Fiona sounds wistful. “I was seven. I couldn’t tell anyone the truth.” Her hand takes hold of the doorframe. “She didn’t run.”
The rest of us wait for her to continue.
“She took me out to a diner for lunch. She’d never done that before. We got home, and she was edgy. She kept throwing clothes in a bag and then saying it wouldn’t matter. Suddenly, she shoved me out the back door,” Fiona tells us. “She told me to run to the village and never come back here. I ran, but not far. I hid in those trees.” She points out the back door. “There were men who came to the cottage. She opened the door for them. I watched them put her in the back of a truck. She didn’t resist. I saw her look over her shoulder at where I was hiding. I think she knew I was there. She never came back after that.”
Eventually, Fiona’s shoulders ease. “My aunt was a good person. She was kind and fair. I never understood why she didn’t fight those men. But there was something about them, about their eyes. When you all walked into my shop, I felt it again. You made me feel like prey.”
Her instincts are spot on.
She swallows. “If that’s all you wanted, I’m leaving. I’ve never come back here since that night, and I never want to again. It’s too painful.” She puts the key on the table. “Return this when you are done.”
I watch her leave and sigh heavily. “Poor girl. The guilt she must carry.”
Lucas puts his hand on my shoulder. “If her aunt was as powerful as I think she was, then she could have taken down at least some of the shifters. She was protecting Fiona, most likely. She didn’t want them to shift and track down the little witch hiding in the woods.”
We decide we have found all there is to find here, and we leave the cottage. Hennessy is waiting at the tavern when we get back to the high street.
“I was asking around, and I found a human drunkard who seems to remember the witch going missing.”
We follow him to the back, where an old man well into his eighties sits hunched over a bowl of stew, his hand around a mug of dark beer. Lucas slides onto the bench across from him. I stand at his shoulder. Lillian and Darius hang back near the bar, while Violet returns Fiona’s key.
“Tell him what you told me,” Hennessy says.
The man looks at Lucas for a long time before he speaks. His eyes are watery and pale.
“Meera seemed off for a few days. Paranoid,” he murmurs. “Then, she comes in one night, and we drink. We always drank together. But she said this was our last time, and she bought mea round. Her little girl was waiting outside. Just ten minutes. She sat with me for ten minutes. Told me to look after Fiona if something ever happened. I don’t know why I went to her cottage. Wanted to see if she was okay, I guess, ’cause she was talking all funny. A covered pickup passed me on the road. Didn’t belong to anyone I knew. The plates weren’t from around here.” The old man’s hand shakes a little. “Three men in the front seat. More in the back, I’d reckon. Heavy on the springs.”
Lucas nods.
“Then, I see them drag her out of her home.” The man’s voice catches. “She didn’t make a sound. They put her in and left. She never came back. That was the last drink we shared.” Tears drip into his stew. “Never told a soul. Those men scared me. They were big, like mountains. Who was I going to tell? Who would believe me?”
Lucas reaches across the table and rests his hand on the old man’s wrist. “You’ve told me,” he murmurs. “That’s enough.”
