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As we descended into the dark gloom of whatever was beneath the house, I started running through every spell in my mind that could help us. A binding spell, to hold my grandmother and give us time to run. A truth spell, to force her to tell us where Mama was. A spell for forgetting, to wipe her memory of this encounter. A spell for sleep, to knock her out while we escaped. All of them required elements and preparation and time that I may not have.
There was a dark space at the bottom of the stairs, and Carnon lit a single finger like a candle to light our way.
“Neat trick,” I quipped, my whisper echoing eerily around the dark, empty chamber. There was a single door, the rest of the room some kind of storage cellar. Akela sniffed at the wooden door, growling at whatever threat lay beyond. Carnon took the handle, and I gave Akela a reassuring stroke.
“No heroics, Red,” Carnon mumbled in my ear, turning from the door to look down at me. “Stay close.”
I nodded and he pulled, the door creaking open to illuminate a round stone chamber beyond. Akela’s growl rose in intensity as he entered the room before me.
“Welcome home, Elara,” came the icy voice of my grandmother.
Chapter 28
She was standing on a dais at the center of the room, her hair elegantly twisted atop her head, her dress of fine silk and brocade. Witches in black robes stood at attention around the perimeter of the room, like soldiers ready to protect their Crone.
My grandmother gave me a disapproving sweep with those cold eyes. “Trousers, Elara? Really?”
Carnon reacted on instinct, surrounding us and Akela in a wall of flame and shadow that reached my shoulders and was so thick, no witch could pass through without burning to death. Akela paced frantically at the edge of the wall, as if to guard from would-be infiltrators.
My grandmother cackled, a cold, derisive sound. “I see you’ve found a protector in the Demon King and his little pet,” she said, tilting her head as if to study him. “Not very polite,Your Majesty, to threaten an old woman in her own home.”
“Where is Mama?” I shouted over the flame and shadow. Carnon was a granite statue behind me, cold and unfeeling in the face of enemy witches, the aloof Demon King fulfilling his duty to protect me. “How could you imprison her? She’s your daughter!”
“She is here,” my grandmother said, waving to some of the gathered witches. Two split away through a dark door on the other side of the chamber. I hoped they were bringing Mama so I could see for myself that she was alright. “And Circe stopped being my daughter the minute she whored herself out to a demon.”
I flinched. She knew. I had no idea how she knew, but she knew. Maybe not exactly who my father was, but she might know about my magic. Panic raced through me, calmed only by Carnon’s steady hand wrapping around my waist. No one could see past the flame and shadow, and he squeezed reassuring strength into me as my grandmother continued, “But you, dear granddaughter, there is still hope for you. I can stamp the demon from you. Make you into a witch worthy of being my heir.”
“I have no desire to be your heir,” I declared, taking a surreptitious step back so I was close to Carnon. “I wantnothingto do with you.”
My grandmother sighed, as if merely aggrieved at having a disobedient granddaughter. She stepped from the dais and glided toward us, walking around the wall of shadow and flame as if to inspect it.
“What did she pay you for her protection?” she asked, looking above the flames to where my mate stood behind me. “Thisisan impressive wall of flame.”
“She paid me nothing,” Carnon bit out. “We are here only to claim her mother.”
“Hmmm,” my grandmother said, tilting her head to the side. She studied me next. “You trust this demon over your own kind now?”
“I trust him over you,” I replied, tensing as the door at the back of the room banged open and two robed figures emerged, dragging a third between them. “Mama!”
“My heart,” I heard her croak, straining to lift her head to me. She was so thin. So pale. I felt something in me crack, filled with grief and rage and an ancient rising fury. My grandmother had done this. The Crone had done this. And now she would pay.
“Release my mother,” I said, looking my grandmother in the eye. “And I’ll considernotburning Ostara to the ground.”
“Ha!” cackled my grandmother, as if genuinely amused. “Spoken like one ofthem,” she spat, glaring daggers at Carnon. “The demons want to destroy these lands, and you would help them?”
“That’s not true,” I shouted, looking at the circle of witches that surrounded the room. “That’s a lie. They are good people. Just like us, really.”
“This,” replied my grandmother, waving an incredulous hand to Carnon’s ring of fire and shadow, “is just like us? You’ve been brainwashed, child. Led astray by the Demon King.” She spoke louder, making sure every witch in the room could hear her. “He has taken your mind and filled it with poison and lies. Comehome, Elara. Your mother is a traitor, but you—how could I faultyoufor her sins?”
“Elara,” Carnon murmured behind me. “Don’t you dare step out of this ring.”
“How’s this?” my grandmother added, holding her hand out. Her single hand. The other was a withered stump that peeked out beneath her sleeve. I shuddered. “Come home, and I’ll let her go. I’ll let your Demon King take her out of here, back to his wretched kingdom to do as he wishes with her.”
She sounded so genuine, so convincing, that I found myself taking a step forward. I was stopped by Akela’s growl, and Carnon’s hand tight on my wrist.
“She’s doing something to you, Elara,” Carnon growled. “Don’t listen.”
“Do you have a better idea?” I hissed back, trying to think of a way to retrieve Mama without losing Carnon or dying myself. We could unleash our magic on these witches, but Mama would be caught in the crossfire. But if I just take grandmother’s hand, I could pour my death magic into her, and we could run. “Trust me.”
