“Thank you.”
“One thing at a time. I’ve already charmed my library for the call, so if the information is here, it’ll make itself known. I have a question for you, though. The Murphys aren’t witches, at least not by any record we have. Do we have to figure out what line you’re from and connect you to your family for training?”
“I know what line I’m from.”
“Which?”
“O’Clery.”
Anya blinked at me for a moment before recovering herself. “Oh dear, well, I suppose there areworselines to be from, but not many. The O’Clerys are primarily underground at this point, so you won’t likely find anyone to help you with your magic.”
“I’ve been learning as I go.”
“So, you said you only learned you’re a witch recently, which means you have to be from the bound line, rather than the unbound line that’s not supposed to exist.”
What does she mean?Caden asked.
I relayed his question.
“What most people don’t know, but I do because my power is specialized in archival history, is that the infamous Fiona O’Clery had a daughter before she was bound. She hid the girl away so the Witches’ Council never found her. I’ve worked with one of her descendants to stay hidden.”
“Are you allowed to do that?”
Anya shrugged. “I’ve never agreed with the binding of bloodlines. Children shouldn’t suffer for the crimes of their parents or ancestors, and because the unbound O’Clery witches haven’t committed crimes we’re aware of, I don’t help the Council find them. If one of them did an unforgivable act, I would cooperate with Council demands. If you were a bound O’Clery witch, that means you’re a descendant from Fiona’s daughter she had after the Council bound her bloodline.”
“Could you get me in contact with the one you’re helping? Do you think she would help train me as another O’Clery?”
“I suppose it’s possible. I can reach out to her, though we’re in the process of creating her a new identity. Something spooked her and she’s abandoning her old name.”
It felt rude to ask, but the desire to form the words suddenly became overwhelming. “What’s her old name?”
Anya narrowed her eyes but then jolted, heaving a dramatic sigh. “Ordinarily I wouldn’t entertain that question, but one of my patron deities is insistent. The name she’s leaving behind is Heather Chambers.”
Oh, fuck.
Ice poured down my spine and Caden stiffened next to me.
“Why do you look like I personally kicked your puppy into the sea?”
“We know her. She used to go by Rachel Callahan, right?”
Anya scanned the page in front of her. “Correct.”
Holy shit. I was related to Rachel? Distantly, but still. Were Seth and Caden drawn to the O’Clery line?
Anya hummed. “I wonder if she’s a piece of the puzzle I’m not seeing yet. Putting a pin in her for a moment, tell me the rest of your situation. Maybe something will occur to me.”
I took a deep breath and spilled everything out I could think of about the monster: how it seemed to seek me out, that it had released the first bindings on my magic, how it sat outside the warding like it was waiting. Anya sat in wide-eyed silence, frantically typing notes.
“Okay, okay, one moment.” A massive tome thumped down on her desk and she flipped through pages with a wave of her hand. “When did you say the monster first appeared?”
I gave her the date and she blew out a sharp breath. A book flew off the shelf and she caught it easily, spreading it openwhere the pages danced in a magical wind before coming to a stop, light glowing off them.
“That’s the four-hundredth anniversary of the binding of the monster Fiona O’Clery created. Holy fuck.”
“What?”
“Okay, okay.” She pressed her fingertips to her forehead, eyes scrunched shut. “Fuck.”
