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“Because this isn’t my quest,” Miss Annabelle replies. “My blood can’t unlock what we need to see.”
Immediately, Daphne thrusts her hand toward the other woman. “Take mine then. This is my quest.”
I want to step in and say no. The thought of anyone deliberately cutting Daphne makes me crazy and stokes my need to defend her.
But I stay quiet.
Miss Annabelle begins the spell again, cuts Daphne’s hand this time, and the blood drops onto the map. As Daphne pulls her hand away, Oliver takes it and, with a whisper, heals the wound.
“Illuminate what we want to see. Lead us to those we must set free,” Miss Annabelle says again, and the blood begins to glow and move, this time in one circuit around the large map on the table.
When it settles onto one spot, everyone looks up at me.
“I knew it.”
“There was nothing in that house,” Cash says, shaking his head. “It’s empty. Been abandoned for years.”
“It’s a spell,” Lucien says. “He blinded us to what’s really going on in there.”
“We were there,” Daphne whispers. “Oh, my goddess, we were there. The girls. We have to go back. How do we break the spell?”
“We have to hurry,” Cash says. “And I’m calling Asher. He’ll believe me. Hell, he was part of this before.”
He leaves the room to make the call, and Miss Sophia and Miss Annabelle discuss different spells that might break the one Horace placed on my childhood home.
“Did he buy it?” I wonder aloud, catching Lucien’s attention. “Did Horace buy the house all those years ago in preparation for this?”
“I doubt it.” Lucien shakes his head. “He couldn’t have known that things would end up like this. But it worked out well for him that no one has been in that house in a long time. I bet he got his rocks off when he discovered it.”
“Let’s move,” Cash says as he returns to the room. “Asher’s meeting us.”
* * *
I pull into the driveway, again ahead of Cash. I already see the difference.
“It doesn’t look the same at all,” Millie says in surprise. “There’s a car in the driveway, and you can tell that someone’s been in and out.”
“The spell is already broken,” Lucien says as we hurry to the front door. “And I’d wager that he’s gone.”
Cash turns to us and brushes his hand over his mouth. “I told Asher I’d wait, but damn it, those girls could be in there.”
“Oh, they’re in there,” Brielle says. “And they’re also standing behind me. But one is weird.”
“How so?”
“She keeps coming and going. Flashing in and out. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
After just one more moment of hesitation, Cash looks us all dead in the eye.
“Don’t touch anything. Nothing.”
He opens the door, and we all file in behind him, frantically searching the space.
It’s a fucking mess.
“The smell,” Daphne says, covering her nose with her hand. “Oh, hell.”
“That’s a lot of death,” I agree. We scout out the first floor and then make our way upstairs where Cash stands in a wide, double doorway. Both doors are open, and the scene beyond looks like something out of a horror movie.
“Don’t go in,” he says quietly. “We’re too late.”
I look over his shoulder and curse ripely.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I push my hands through my hair in agitation. “They’re still bleeding, Cash.”
“I see.”
“We could have saved them. My God, we could have fucking saved them.”
“No.” Millie puts her hand on my shoulder gently. “He made sure that we couldn’t.”
“We have to be sure,” Brielle says to Cash. “We have to check them. What if someone isn’t dead?”
With a grim face, Cash nods, and we carefully make our way around the room. It’s difficult to avoid stepping in blood, but Cash reminds us all again not to contaminate the scene.
My stomach jolts as I cross to a woman with red hair. She looks so similar to Daphne, it makes me nauseous.
When I reach down to touch her neck, just past the gash over it, she suddenly opens her eyes and gasps for breath, sitting up to my absolute shock and horror.
“Fucking hell,” I exclaim and jump back right into a puddle of blood.
“Holy shit,” Cash cries out as all three girls gasp. Lucien’s eyes narrow.
The woman’s blue eyes bulge. Her fiery red hair is full of blood, and she’s coughing, clutching her chest as she gasps for breath.
“This is insane,” Daphne whispers and reaches for my hand.
When the woman stands, as naked as the day she was born, she narrows those eyes and walks through the bodies lying around her, toward us.
And that wound on her neck is closing. Healing as if it was never there.
“Who are you?” Brielle asks, stepping forward.
“Lucinda,” the woman replies. “Lucy.”
She pushes her hand into her hair, still looking around at the mess around her.
