Especially because this horrible woman is right. If they kill me now, there won’t be a thing Sebastian can do to stop it. He’s mortal in the sun. His army will literally burn in it. And Cora, powerful as she may be, can’t take down these people on her own.
She’d be suicidal to even try.
“What are you going to do to me?” I ask.
I expect her to give me a mocking smile as her predecessor did. At the very least, I assume she’ll waltz back to her post at the door. Instead, she sits in the gravelly dirt, curling her bare legs to sit on them. Her bright orange skirt flows over her lap, and she smooths it with her manicured fingers.
“What the Mother wants,” she says. She looks up at me, hazel eyes drifting over my clothes and undoubtedly wild hair. “It is She who decides, not us.”
“The Mother?” I repeat. This sounds like something out of a cult documentary, and my stomach sours at the thought. Only now do I realize how little I know about witches. Everything I saw from Cora aligns far more closely to the vampires than…whatever the hell these people are.
“Yes,” she says. She tips her nose up slightly. Rather than elaborating, she continues. “The Mother keeps our world in perfect harmony. Through her, and only her, we achieve balance, love, unity. Peace, Grace. Do you understand?”
“Does your Mother’s harmony often involve the death of an innocent?” I ask. I ignore the way my heart races, the way my muscles twitch, begging me to run. They don’t understand I have nowhere to go, that I cannot fight what is about to happen.
“I do not expect you to understand,” the woman continues. She speaks as if I’m a child, too naive to understand her grand knowledge. “But I thought you deserved to know. It is not your death we seek, but the harmony it will bring. The safety for all in the Echo, not only our coven’s.”
“You’re crazy,” I say. I move from the bars to slump against the nearest wall. My adrenaline is pumping too hard for me to feel tired, but I decide to trust Cora’s advice. I need this woman to believe I’m exhausted, that I’m nowhere near a threat.
I need her to leave me alone. I can’t think, let alone cast magic, with this psychotic woman staring at me.
“You look like your father,” she says. She gives me a soft smile, and I’m sure she thinks it looks like the perfect combination of empathy, sadness, and selflessness. Crazy. She looks freaking crazy. “Your father was a good man, Grace. I truly believe he would have understood our decision.”
“Clearly not enough to ask him,” I say. I tip my head back, looking at the cracked ceiling instead of her. “The dead seem to forgive far easier than the living.”
When I look back, the woman gives me a tight smile.
“You should rest,” she says. “This will all be over soon.”
She rises to her feet, moving swiftly for her post.
“How long?” I ask. She pauses, looking over her shoulder at me with a lifted eyebrow. “How long before you slaughter me like a sacrificial lamb?”
This time, she doesn’t answer. She turns away and slinks into a corner I can’t see. Apparently, she’s told me all I deserve to know.
As it turns out,my sacrifice is scheduled for the early afternoon. It’s long enough I can practice my magic, but nowhere near enough time to feel ready. My best chance at escaping is to make my move while they’re taking me to wherever I’ll be sacrificed.
Murdered.
I swallow, forcing the thought from my mind. There’s no time to be scared. I’ll only get one chance to escape, and if I miss it…
Do not think about it, Grace. You cannot think about it.
It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff and trying to keep your balance. If you look down, the fear of falling might make you stumble. If you don’t look, you don’t know to be scared. You’ll stand perfectly still, as easily as anywhere else.
“It’s time,” my guard says. She approaches me, flanked by two men. One is short and thin, the other tall with lean muscles. None of them look like they’d win a fight, but I know better than to judge a witch by their size.
The three work to undo whatever magic they’ve cast over my cell. They each hold a different herb and chant in eerie unison. I wonder, had Cora had those herbs, would her spell have worked? It’s useless knowledge now, but I try to memorize the way they look and smell all the same.
I shift on my feet, stepping back as the door opens. My cell reeks of pee, and despite everything, I’m tempted to apologize. I don’t let myself. I exit the cell with my chin lifted and my jaw clamped tight.
My plan isn’t elaborate, and it’s certainly not foolproof. There are a hundred things that could go wrong, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m dead either way. Let me at least fight. Let them all know I was outnumbered and overpowered, and that I still tried.
We walk from the dingy prison, out into a sprawling field of neatly trimmed grass and a path of square stones. The woman follows behind me, and the men flank me on either side.
I blink against the sun’s brightness. It feels too hot against my skin, and I’m reminded just how rarely I’ve been outside since coming to the Echo. If by some miracle I survive, I am going to stand in the sun every day for hours. I’ll soak up the warmth until it's embedded in my pale skin, until I can feel it even when I’m indoors.
After twenty minutes of fast-paced walking, we reach thetop of a hill. On its other side, a small town winds between a thick forest and a slow-moving river. The streets are filled with witches, all wearing clothes and hairstyles as bright and lively as the three surrounding me. Some, like my female guard, wear oranges and reds and golds. Others wear cool shades of grey and white and dark blues. Then more are lavender, pale pink, and pastel yellow. And finally, sky blue and bright green.
