“It’s why male babies are taken from witches,” Alice explains softly, her hand still on my arm. A lifeline in the storm ofemotions. “Male witches are dangerous. They can steal a witch’s magick and take it as their own.”
The anger seeps out of Lawrence. He sighs, suddenly looking every one of his years. The weight of centuries in his eyes. “It comes at a steep price. The ghost of the witch follows that magick. So, if a male witch continues to take—”
“It would be like experiencing schizophrenia,” I finish, the realization dawning. The implications stagger me, and I feel a grudging respect for the burden Lawrence and his coven must bear. “You would be haunted by them. By their voice?”
He nods, a slight tilt of his chin. “Yes.”
“Then where did it go?” Alice asks softly. “Magick doesn’t just disappear.”
Silence falls again, heavy as a burial shroud. I can almost hear the gears turning in everyone’s minds, searching for an explanation that makes sense. That doesn’t spell disaster for us all.
“Could it have been transferred before she died?” Aiden suggests, his deep voice startling in the quiet. “Could Meredith have hidden it somewhere?”
Lawrence’s head snaps up, hope flickering in his eyes for the first time. “Is that possible?”
Lila hesitates, her stirring slowing. The scraping of wood on iron falters. “I’ve never heard of anything like that, but I only know what Meredith has taught me. Had she stayed in the Salem Court, she would’ve been aMathairherself. The amount of knowledge she has…had…compared to mine is astronomical.”
The use of past tense hits me like a punch to the gut. Had. Has. The finality of it all crashes over me all over again. Meredith is gone. Really, truly gone. I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. The pain grounds me, keeps me from howling my grief to the rafters.
“So the likelihood of us ever finding it is low, if she hid it?” Aiden says slowly, his brow furrowed in concentration. “But it’s likely that Oliver didn’t get it either.”
Lila nods, a sharp jerk of her chin. “Yes, to both of those things.”
Lawrence curses under his breath, folding his arms over his chest. Anger radiates off him in waves. “She wouldn’t have hidden it.”
“Perhaps not,” Lila answers, her voice gentle but firm. Steel wrapped in silk. “But it’s not with her, so something happened to it. It’s somewhere.”
“Wherever she’s stashed it, it will keep, won’t it?” I ask, grasping at normalcy.
She nods, her smile sad but genuine. “I assume so. Making it a problem for another day. We have the Ren Faire starting in the morning. She would want us to focus on that for now. We’ll come back later to the mystery of Meredith’s missing magick.”
I chuckle at the alliteration, the sound surprising even me. It feels wrong to laugh, like I’m betraying Meredith’s memory. But she always loved wordplay, didn’t she? Lila flashes me a smile, and for a moment, I just see the woman who helped raise me. Who always encouraged me to be my best self and soothed my teenage heartbreaks when I couldn’t talk to my own mother.
Alice steps forward, a big notebook clutched to her chest like a shield. “I have everything ready for the memorial at the Ren Faire for the second day’s opening ceremony. The mayor insisted that Meredith be honored.”
The mention of a memorial brings reality crashing back. My smile fades, replaced by the now-familiar ache in my chest.
“It’s ridiculous that you’re all leaving the safety of the Court for a stupid town festival.” Lawrence grinds his teeth, glaring at Lila. For once, I find myself agreeing with him.
“Meredith founded the Ren Faire. It’s become a huge event for the town every year.” Lila adds a few things to the pot and continues stirring. The scent changes from medicinal to floral, filling the air with memories of summer days and laughter. “Oliver will dictate our actions no longer,” she declares, her voice ringing with conviction. “We will not cower in fear. We run half the booths at the Renaissance Faire. He’s already taken Meredith—we’ll not let him take this too.”
I catch Liam’s eye across the room, seeing my own skepticism mirrored there. I hate to agree with Lawrence, but worry gnaws at my gut. The memory of our last encounter with Oliver is still too fresh. The scent of blood and fear in that basement lingers in my nightmares.
“My wife is dead. Her magick is missing. And you want to throw a party for human tourists?” Lawrence’s voice cracks on the wordwife, and despite everything, I feel a pang of sympathy for him. Loss recognizing loss.
“Your wife,” Lila spits back at him, her eyes flashing dangerously. Magick crackles in the air, raising the hair on the back of my neck. “The wife you haven’t seen in over twenty years. You don’t get to dictate to us either. Meredith would’ve wanted us to carry on.”
“Meredith died to save you.” Lawrence’s words are a lash, meant to wound.
“No.” Lila’s voice drops, deathly quiet. The kind of quiet that precedes a storm. “Meredith died to save them.” She points to Liam and Gen, then to me. Her gaze burns, fierce and protective. “And she would do it again.”
Her words are like a white-hot blade to the skin. I remember Meredith’s last moments, her fierce determination as she faced down Noah. The way she looked at me, at all of us, with such love and certainty. My throat tightens, and I have to look away, blinking back the sudden sting of tears.
“I loved Meredith as much as anyone in this coven. She was family,” I say, my voice rough. “And Lawrence may be an asshole, but he’s right. How do we protect you out in the open?”
“It’s not like we’re defenseless,” Alice says, a spark of her old fire returning. “We are witches. And Oliver doesn’t know about all of us.”
Her optimism is almost painful to hear. I want to shake her, to make her understand the danger. But I can’t bring myself to crush that spark of hope in her eyes.
