Page 75 of Hallowed Bones

“Answer me, Ezra Bishop,” Dimitri orders, a note of power woven into the words that’s more than just an urging. It’s a command laced with magic, weak though it may be. This time, I do flinch. He really shouldn’t be using magic in his condition. “Is the girl you brought to this house of the Salem coven’s bloodline?”

“Yes.” Through gritted teeth, the answer is pulled from Ezra’s throat.

Dimitri collapses against his pillows, breathing heavily as sweat dots his brow. Foolish old man. I shake my head in disappointment, but don’t chastise him for the slip. It’s too late now anyway.

“Thank the Gods…” He blinks, a shine to his eyes that I haven’t seen since the coven funeral. “Thank the Goddess…” He adds, and it seems to break something in Ezra.

“Thank the Gods?” Ezra’s voice is anything but reverent. The muscles along my back tense in preparation. “What have they or the Goddess done but forsake us?”

Dimitri bristles, but it’s not he who speaks first. “You know why,” Lyall states, voice dark and guttural. The wolf is with us.

Ezra doesn’t acknowledge Lyall’s comment. His eyes remain fixed to his uncle’s face. “You may believe in the Gods’ blessing,” he says. “But they are the reason our coven has been slowly sliding toward extinction for the last three hundred years.”

“Watch your tone,” Dimitri barks, anger giving his voice a bit more strength than normal even when he doesn’t use his magic. “The Gods are the reason for all that you have.”

I close my eyes. That’s the problem—for Ezra. If the Gods are the reason for all that we have, then they are also the reason for Kane Bishop. For what he did in his service to the coven in his training of Ezra. If the Gods are the reason for all, then they are also the reason for the deaths of our parents, for the struggle we face every damn day we walk out of those doors and enter a world that’s long since forgotten witches and the scars they left upon our bodies, our minds, our souls.

“Respectfully,” Ezra says, sounding anything but respectful as he spits the words, “you haven’t left this house in years, Uncle. You haven’t even met the woman.”

“If she’s truly a descendant of Salem,” Dimitri says, “then it doesn’t matter.”

I reopen my eyes and fold my arms behind my back, one hand gripping the wrist of my other arm.

“It doesn’t matter?” Ezra barks out a laugh that makes my ears hurt. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cameron flinch. “Surely, Anna has told you more? What about the murders? Those didn’t start happening until she showed up. She’s a mess—untrained and potentially summoning creatures from the Veil.”

“I thought we’d decided it could also be another coven meaning to wipe us out?” I say, shooting a look in Lyall’s direction.

“We did,” Ly confirms with a nod.

“The fact is—we don’t know,” Ezra argues.

“Wait.” Cameron raises a hand, halting the conversation. “You said murders as in plural—has there been another?”

Dimitri and Ezra glare at one another, neither of them speaking up to answer him—not that Dimitri would know. Still, I sigh and answer Cameron. “Yes,” I say. “A couple was found on the outskirts of Salem on one of the hiking trails—their deaths were similarly performed.”

Cameron’s expression falls. “I don’t think she could be the reason,” he says. “It must be another coven.”

“If that’s the case, why is the Veil creature going after humans and not us?” Lyall asks.

“The murders are irrelevant,” Dimitri says with a wave of his hand. “Veil creatures respond to the power of a priestess—if you truly wish to help those killed, then you must bring the girl into the coven.”

“What about what she wants?” Ezra demands. “Does she not get a choice? What about what her father wanted for her? There must be a reason why she wasn’t raised among us.” He narrows his gaze on his uncle. To my surprise, instead of rising to the bait, Dimitri looks away and toward the balcony doors.

“You think she won’t want to be with us?” Cameron sounds surprised by Ezra’s insinuation. “She has no idea who she is. She needs us.”

Ezra doesn’t answer him. His focus remains on Dimitri. “She’s certainly part of our coven,” he says, tone quieter than before but no less demanding. “We’ve confirmed her bloodline.”

Dimitri nods, still without looking at him—or any of us, I realize. “Then she belongs—if you do not bring her into the coven, she will—”

A cold anger vibrates alongside the barely repressed magic in the room at the mere thought. “Why wasn’t she raised with us, Uncle?” Ezra’s question interrupts Dimitri’s words. “What do you know that you haven’t told us?”

Tension thickens in the air of the room. Dimitri shifts where he sits.

I watch them for a beat before speaking up. “She’s powerful,” I say. “A female witch strengthens a coven. A priestess is supposed to be the heart of us. We need her.”

Without her, we will become a dead coven. Extinction has always been the probability for our bloodlines, but now we have a chance to stop that. For centuries, our coven has been slowly declining—a death by a million cuts. Each bloodline dying out until we are all that’s left. The failures of our race, unable to protect our heart and worthy of nothing but censure from the Gods.

“It is your ancestral right to have a priestess,” Dimitri agrees, voice hardening until he sounds as ready to stand from his sickbed as any healthy man. “Regardless of what her father may have decided for himself.”