Her words hit me like a slap across the face, but I didn’t contradict her.
Imogen was all I had left in this world — the closest thing I had to family. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her, but I knew I was putting her at risk.
If Silas learned what she was to me . . .
But I couldn’t think about that now.
There was a long pause as Adelaide stared at Imogen, those white eyes narrowed and unblinking. Then she tossed another glare at me before stepping back and opening the door.
But as I made to walk across the threshold of the old witch’s home, I met an invisible wall of resistance. I took a step back, staring through the open door. It felt as though I were trying to walk through a curtain of water, but I couldn’t see anything blocking my path. I reached out with my hand and felt that impenetrable air.
Warded. Adelaide’s house was warded against hunters — even half-hunters like me. But, after a moment, the invisible barrier melted away, and I took a cautious step forward.
The instant I crossed the threshold into Adelaide’s home, the scent of sage and tea and musty old books filled my nostrils. The hardwood floors were bowed and stained, and they groaned loudly under my weight as I followed the witches into a sitting room.
The furniture was old and worn but still inviting. Gothic-style bookcases covered nearly every inch of wall space, and more books trailed along the floor in teetering stacks. Their pages were frayed and yellowed, and most had colorful scraps of paper sticking out like bookmarks. Mixed with Adelaide’s collection were stubs of candles, empty clay pots, oddly shaped rocks, and little bouquets of what appeared to be dried herbs.
“Sit,” said Adelaide, gesturing to the sagging antique settee beside the window. Outside, it had started to rain, and fat drops pelted the glass panes.
Imogen and I sat, and the cushion beneath us seemed to sink nearly all the way to the floor.
I’d never met the leader of Imogen’s coven before, and I was momentarily taken aback by how frail Adelaide looked. Her hair was a soft downy gray and long enough to form a cloud around her head, though the tight curls had abandoned the round expanse at the front of her skull long ago. The meager flesh of her arms seemed to hang off her bones, and the liver-spotted calves visible beneath her purple dress were wasted with age.
And yet, despite her age, the way she stood reminded me of a warrior. Those opaque white eyes seemed to pierce right through me, and the magic that hummed beneath that paper-thin skin was . . .
I shuddered. Perhaps I was not the most dangerous female in the room.
“I just put the kettle on for tea,” said Adelaide, taking slow shuffling steps to the chair across from us and easing down into it.
We were silent as she settled in, looking me up and down as if she reallycouldsee.
“You are Imogen’s childhood friend,” she said without preamble. “The one who works for Silas.”
“Yes,” I said, unsticking my throat. “But I don’t work for him anymore.”
The old witch narrowed her eyes, and her lips became a thin line. “I have never heard of a hunter leaving Silas’s employ, girl, so you’ll have to excuse me if I find it hard to believe a single word coming out of your mouth.”
“It’s true,” said Imogen, the edge in her voice just enough to convey her loyalty without disrespecting the leader of her coven.
Adelaide’s nostrils flared. “I know you believe her, or you would not be here. But I have not lived this long in the Quarter by trusting those who don’t deserve it.” Those milky eyes snapped back to me. “Do you think I haven’t heard what he does to those who betray him?” she hissed. “His hunters don’t leave, except in pieces.”
Imogen stiffened, but Adelaide’s words didn’t shock me. I was more aware than most of how Silas treated those who were loyal to him, much less those who weren’t.
“That’s why I’m here,” I said. “I need a way to leave the Quarter without having my magic tracked. I was searching for the apokropos stone, but I wasn’t able to get my hands on it.”
At my mention of the stone, something flickered in Adelaide’s sightless eyes. It was quick — so quick I almost missed it — but I was sure of what I’d seen.
“You’ve heard of it,” I said.
Adelaide pursed her lips, and those wiry gray eyebrows knitted in irritation. “Girl, there is not a witch as old as I am who has not heard of that stone. But my sisters and I are servants of the earth. We live with both feet on the ground.”
My heart sank. Maybe the stone really was a myth, and Julian had been putting me on. But why give me any hint that he could procure the stone if he had no intention of doing so?
“So you don’t believe the stone exists?” I asked hoarsely. Had I forfeited my life chasing after something that wasn’treal?
“I never said that. I only meant that we witches are too busy trying to survive in this cesspit of predators to pay any attention to stories like that.”
In the next room, a kettle began to whistle. Imogen sprang to her feet to fetch the tea, but Adelaide waved her off with an impatient snap of her wrist and hauled herself out of her chair.
