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“More importantly, where are they?” Emmanuel asks.
“Mom,” Clara says, turning toward her mother. She shakes her head once in a signal to the older woman.
“Caleb Church has been stalking her forever!” Cordelia blurts out. “He—”
“Hush, child,” Celeste says, her tone firm but kind.
“Caleb Church is a Disciple,” I say. Although it’s not a question, Celeste nods to me.
My brother steps out into the hallway, and a moment later, I hear him talking. He must have called Larissa.
“He’s in prison,” Barrett says. “It can’t be him.”
“These Disciples have been active in the area,” I say. The Wildblood parents exchange a look. I have a feeling they suspected as much given the local murders of supposed witches even if the hallmark of a Disciple murder, the cross carved into the forehead, hasn’t been released to the public. “You need to tell me what you know because they not only took my wife and Raven, but they took my sister, too, and she is very sick.”
“Is that why you’re here? Because they took one of yours?” Barrett asks, standing. “I should have guessed as much.”
“They took my wife as well as my sister,” I say. It takes all I have to remain seated.
Barrett studies me for a long minute. “We have our own private investigators,” he says.
“Dad,” Aurora says, her voice pleading. “Those investigators can’t help if the Disciples got to them.”
I shift my gaze to Celeste, who watches me. She’ll be the one to make the final decision.
Emmanuel re-enters the room and all eyes turn to him. “Caleb Church was paroled early. And the officer assigned to him reported him missing two days ago.”
“What?” Barrett snaps. “Why weren’t we told?” He looks around, helpless, and I find in that moment that I feel for the man.
“Barrett,” Clara says, reaching out for him. He sits beside his wife, clasping her hand in both of his and whispering reassurances to her he doesn’t believe himself.
“Go get the files,” Celeste says to Aurora. “Bring them all here.”
“Who is he?” I ask Celeste.
“Caleb Church has wanted Willow for himself for a very long time—since before she was even a woman.”
“Mom. It’s not our story to tell,” Clara says, which is worrying.
Barrett squeezes her hands. “What do you know about the Disciples?” he asks us.
“They’re vigilante witch hunters who’ve been operating since Elizabeth Wildblood’s lifetime, at least. They’re responsible for dozens of murders, most recently the two women who were killed here,” I say.
Husband and wife exchange a look.
“We suspected they were responsible,” Celeste says. “You’re certain?”
“They left their signature. Another woman was attacked in the last twenty-four hours. She got lucky. A neighbor was walking her dog and interrupted the killers. Three men wearing cassocks.”
Celeste’s lips curl downward. “Evil men hiding behind religion. It’s disgusting.”
Aurora returns with the folders and hands them to Celeste. She stands behind the older woman, and all the sisters watch us as Celeste opens the folders and flips through the pages to find what she’s looking for.
“They marked your door,” Emmanuel says. “You should have contacted us.”
Barrett stands and Clara with him. “You should not have gone near my daughter.”
I stand, too, and put a hand on my brother’s arm. “We need to find them now. The rest can wait.”
Emmanuel breaking the rules could cause a problem. The contract between our families is clear.
Barrett turns to me. “And you.” He looks me over. “You were supposed to keep her safe. I thought maybe this time… I thought at least you’d keep her safe and maybe, just maybe—” His voice breaks, and I watch a grown man cry.
“I’m… sorry,” I say, a feeling of impotence overwhelming me. It’s a pathetic apology that, if I were him, I would not accept.
He snorts.
Celeste gets to her feet holding a folder out to me, and for the first time, I see her age. It’s what she’s reading in these pages that does it, that must so upset her.
I take the folder from her, sit down to open it, and I understand. They’ve been tracking murders not only in New Orleans, but all over the country and the photos included offer more detail than necessary.
“We’ve never been able to track them down, but there is a rumor of a compound. This man,” she points to a name that is familiar. “Alfred Noyes. He was their leader for a time. He’s old now, though, in his seventies I believe.”
“Noyes?” I turn to Emmanuel.
“The car they found. It was registered to a Noyes from somewhere in New England,” he says.
“Portsmouth,” Celeste fills in.
“Get Larissa on the phone,” I tell my brother. “We need to find any properties he owns in New Orleans or near here. That’s where they’ll be.” Emmanuel nods, already placing the call. I turn back to Celeste. “What’s Church’s obsession with Willow?”
She sits back down, and one of the sisters hands her her tea. She drinks a sip, then another. “He targeted her when she was too young to know better. It was my fault, really. I should have been more forthcoming about the dangers, but I didn’t want to scare the girls. They were still so young.”
