Page 127 of A Resistance of Witches
Evelyn’s voice, the night they learned the true depth of Sybil’s betrayal.
If you tell the academy everything, will they continue to fight the good fight against the Nazis? Or will they sweep the whole ugly business under the rug and go back to how things were before?
Lydia had known the answer. They both did.
Make her tell them, Evelyn said.Drag her before the high council and force her to confess her crimes. Make them see that the fate of witches and the fate of the world are one and the same.
Lydia stood before Sybil’s writhing body, knife in hand, shaking with rage and grief at the death of her mother.
“Enough,” she said.
Sybil carried on screaming.
“Slaepna fae!” she shouted.
Sybil fell silent and collapsed to the tile.
The knife felt slippery in Lydia’s hand. She was covered to the elbow in blood. It was everywhere, seeping across the floor, running through the cracks in the tiles. It pooled beneath Ursula’s twisted body. It pooled around Evelyn, and around theGrimorium Bellum.
Something shifted in the air, a low, sinister rumble.
“What—” The word was snatched from Lydia’s mouth. The strange sensation grew, making her feel detached from herself. Her pulse trilled in her throat, so fast the beats ran together like a drumroll. She wanted to scream, if only to feel the release of it, but she couldn’t. Something had caught hold of her, something she couldn’t control.
She looked at theGrimorium Bellum.Where once there was only a book, now there was a hideous void, writhing like a mass of insects.
She looked at the pool of blood, slowly seeping into the pages of the book. She saw the creature, feeding on it like a leech. A roar like an oncoming train filled her skull, consuming her.
“No—”
Lydia fell to her knees, and the world went black.
Thirty-Eight
Rebecca’s legs seemed to move without conscious thought, dragging her exhausted body up the mountain. Something heavy settled into the silence between herself and Henry as they walked, something deeper than exhaustion. She was sure it had to do with Henry’s ghost, but he didn’t offer any explanation, and she didn’t ask.
When they reached the top, Henry stopped, listening to something only he could hear.
“More ghosts?” Rebecca was surprised to find she wasn’t frightened anymore. Only tired.
Henry shook his head. “Something’s happened. Come on.”
The castle stood silent and empty. Rebecca braced herself, expecting to be assaulted by a phalanx of witches the moment they set foot inside, but all that greeted them was the echo of their own footsteps. Henry seemed to be guided by some invisible thing, and she followed closely, staying alert as they navigated the cavernous halls.
They stopped before an enormous ebony door, intricately carved and polished to a high gleam. The carving depicted a golden tree, branches splayed to the heavens, roots reaching deep into the earth, and all around the edges, an endless series of runes, carved into the shape of a great black serpent.
“Here.” Henry looked like he was in pain. “The book is in here.”
Which meant that Lydia would be here, as well. She was the only one who could touch the book, after all. The only one who could use it.
“Are we going to justwalk in?” Rebecca hissed. “There could be a whole coven of witches in there.”
They listened through the door for another moment and heard only silence.
“Awfully quiet for a whole coven of witches,” Henry whispered.
Rebecca stayed very still, pressing her ear against the crack in the doors.
You’re always running, a voice inside her head murmured. She straightened her spine and looked Henry in the eye, hoping she looked braver than she felt. “Let’s go get her.”
