by Cate Corvin
I straightened up and stretched my back, waiting stone-faced for the pair to arrive. Knowing he was just putting up with her shit for an ulterior motive didn’t make it easy. I still harbored that fear that I could never measure up to someone from a greater coven.
Dominic handed me a sword, hope lurking in the back of his hazel eyes. I took it without a smile, glancing at Bloom.
She gave me a thin smile. “Miss Darke.”
“Professor Bloom.”
Dominic was about to step into the clearing, but Bloom wrapped her hand around his arm and pulled him back, clearly showing off the Steelblood coven ring she wore on her left hand.
Flames licked the back of my throat and my heart thumped, but my only giveaway was the faint flush of anger spreading over my cheeks.
“Let me challenge her, Dom,” Bloom purred. “If you’re the only one she trains with, she’ll grow used to your tricks. My aunt would like her to have a well-rounded education.”
My stomach lurched. Gilt’s interest in me was starting to seem much more parental than was strictly necessary.
“If you’d like,” I said, managing to sound completely bored at the prospect.
Dominic gave me a sharp glance, but I turned my back on him and stepped out to wait for Bloom.
She took a practice sword, smiling triumphantly, and we both fell into a guard stance. It felt natural and grounded, like I’d become a small mountain planted in the grass.
The fight started slowly, almost like the tentative beginnings of a dance, where we learned each other’s movements and stride. Bloom was quick, but she wasn’t as fast as Dominic, and I found it easier to block her.
After ten minutes we were still locked in a stalemate and beginning to sweat.
Bloom’s lips curled back. “You won’t only be fighting mirrorwalkers,” she said, sucking in a breath. “Try an elementalist.”
“Been there, done that,” I growled, and something snaked around my ankle.
It bit down hard and I gasped, almost going to my knees. A thorny vine had wrapped around me and dug into my skin. Blood ran over my ankle and soaked into my sneakers.
She’d drawn first blood with intent. By the laws of witches’ duels, I had every right to bite back.
I drew a single lick of flame from my wildfire and sent it into my rowan blade. It needed to be enough to burn, but not enough to eat my sword to ash.
In contrast to the heat, cold glee filled my heart.
I went after Bloom with every intention of hurting her in return, tongues of flame streaking after my blade as I took the offense.
She held her ground, scorch marks covering her own sword. Sweat gleamed on her forehead as more vines snaked from the forest like living creatures and wrapped around my feet, climbing upwards towards my knees.
The squirming sensation of plants moving like snakes made my stomach roll, and a thorn pushed through the tender flesh on the back of my knee.
I held back the shriek that threatened to rip from my throat, my nerves tingling with pain.
Fuck the embers. I needed more than that. I drew more of the wildfire from my center, letting the flames gush over my body like a wave of plasma.
The vines blackened and died, my blood burnt off and vanished into black flakes, and Bloom hissed through her teeth.
She raised a wall of brambles between us and I drove my sword right through it. The weakening rowan began to crumble at the edges, but the hedge caught fire and went up in a spume of ash.
I bore down on Bloom, driven by complete rage. Vines tore from the earth around my feet, trying to grasp me with thorns and shriveling as they burned, an endless torrent of scorched greenery writhing under my feet.
I landed a strike on her and she fell back, cushioned by her living plants, teeth exposed in a feral grimace. “I yield!”
A clap rang through the forest and I stopped, my head clearing from the fog of pure hate and rage.
I was poised over Bloom, waves of fire pouring off my body, ready to strike the jagged remains of my sword right into her.
I dropped it and backed away, slamming my mental lid on the wildfire and letting the flames die out. The forest reeked of ash, burnt leaves and boiling sap.
Bloom got to her feet, face taut and pale as the clap built up to a round of applause. We both looked wildly at Dominic, who watched impassively as Headmistress Gilt applauded us.
She stood at his elbow, wearing a horrific salmon pink suit, her claws painted the color of eggshells.
“Marvelous! What a splendid performance, ladies.”
I heaved for breath, glancing at Dominic incredulously. He wasn’t clapping, but he looked at me with a touch of pride under his stern demeanor.
What the fuck was marvelous about it? I’d charred a twenty-foot patch of grass. I was standing in what looked like the scorched epicenter of a bomb blast.
I would’ve killed Bloom if her aunt hadn’t interrupted us.
Ivy Bloom salvaged her wounded pride and stepped to Dominic’s side, pushing back her ponytail. I wasn’t sorry to see that more than a few strands were scorched. “She’s come a long way, Aunt Mal.” Her voice was sour.
“She has,” Gilt said. She looked me over from head to toe with a satisfied smile I didn’t like one bit. “I can’t remember the last time someone thrashed you so thoroughly in a duel, Ivy.”
If I’d thought Bloom’s looks could kill before, they were nothing compared to now. She could’ve killed me ten times over.
“I owe Professor Steele for that, Headmistress,” I said. What the hell was this all about? A sharp sting pricked my leg as one of the thorn wounds opened, and fresh blood ran free.
Headmistress Gilt turned on Dominic, giving him a smarmy smile.
“But of course. Our Dom is nothing if not excellent at molding raw clay into a formidable weapon.” She looked at both of us like she wanted to eat us up. Bloom was practically breathing fire. “In fact, would you do us the honor of bearing witness later today?”
For all the fire that I’d just channeled through my body, everything inside me seemed to freeze. I swallowed hard as Bloom scowled, and a hint of surprise shone through Dominic’s carefully schooled features.
He didn’t even look at me. “The honor would be mine, Mallory.”
I had no fire left, only ice. Bearing witness for what?
“Lovely. Naomi will be there as well. It’s a shame about White, but Katrina will make the third.” She patted my dirty shoulder, then looked at her sooty fingers and flicked them carefully. “The formal signing will take place at midnight, the witches’ hour.”
“Formal signing?” I repeated, my lips numb. Part of me knew what she was leading up to and wanted to deny it, run as far and fast as I could just to avoid her words.
“You’re simply too valuable to go to waste, Miss Darke.” Gilt tried for a motherly expression and failed completely. “Tonight, we’re initiating you into Giltglass coven. Think of it! You’ll be part of a brand-new family that’ll be overjoyed to have you! And Miss Lucrezia Gilt has a lovely ring to it, if I do say so myself.”
She turned on her heel and strode from the forest. “Come, Dom, Ivy. There are many preparations to be made.”
Bloom sidled next to me, all venom. “Grandfather is so excited to meet you,” she whispered. “Sister.”
Then she followed her aunt, gesturing imperiously for Dominic to follow her.
I stared at him, my fire burned out, the ice melted, leaving a hollow and frightened emptiness in its place. “You can’t let her do this.”
I couldn’t become a Gilt. Even if my matriarch hadn’t wanted me, I’d been born a Darke, and I wanted to remain that way until I chose otherwise.
Who the fuck could Bloom’s ‘Grandfather’ possibly be? I’d been under the impression that the Headmistress was the last full-blooded Gilt.
“Dominic.”
He met my eyes, held them, his face hardening into stone again. “Sometimes we have to endure terrible things to win in the end.”
>
He turned his back on me, following Gilt and Bloom back to Cimmerian.
I felt like I’d been punched through the chest, my heart squeezed in a vise. He wasn’t going to help me. He wouldn’t save me.
Like the blackened circle of ash around me, I was a charred wasteland on the inside, losing everything I was to Mallory Gilt and Ivy Bloom.
I touched my mating bites for comfort, but the wolves were too far away for me to feel them or call out. They must’ve been chasing Locke through the far reaches of Moira’s Forest.
I was alone.
Chapter 22
Lu
There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
Everybody knew. The induction of a new Gilt into Cimmerian’s ranks had been announced while I fought against Bloom this morning, and every time I ran into a professor, the teacher shook my hand and fawned over me, already kissing ass now that the academy matriarch’s adopted daughter would be their student.
Herbalism was the only exception. Daphne frowned at a wild hedge of henbane as Bloom walked by and narrowly missed smacking me in the face with a pair of shears.
I wasn’t sorry to see the deep pink welt on the back of her hand, almost touching the Steelbood ring.
In fact, a deep and sick sort of satisfaction twined through my belly like a snake at the sight of it.
“Carmen’s pissed,” Daphne said. “I guess she’d been cozying up to Ivy Bloom-” she said her name with a mocking tone, pulling a grotesque face- “She’s been spouting off about how unfair it is that you made it into their coven before another greenwitch did.”
“She can fucking have it,” I said, ferociously yanking out a clump of henbane by the roots. I was just glad I wasn’t in Discipline or Exorcism at the moment. I would’ve been sick at the sight of Dominic. “I don’t want to join their damn coven.”
Daphne raised an eyebrow. “No? Gilt has plenty of money. A lot of witches would jump for the opportunity.”
I lowered my shears and glared at her. “I’d rather be covenless for the rest of my life than be one of them. I don’t care how much money they have. Look at what they do.”
Instead of getting offended, Daphne just smirked, and I realized she’d been testing me. “I know. What do you think living in Starlake is like? I was just curious if you were like the rest of the sorry fucks who’re willing to put up with their shit for cash. Guess you’re not, though. It sucks, is all I’m trying to say.”
Receiving actual sympathy from Daphne Vega was almost stranger than being told that Gilt wanted to adopt me into her coven.
I spent the evening in my room, petting Demonseed and trying to reach for my wolves. The scars tingled, a sign that our connection remained whole and unbroken, but I felt nothing of their emotions.
If they could feel mine, they would only be receiving desolation.
I considered running, but even if I tried to take refuge in Dominic’s house, they would find me, and Holly as well. He’d made it clear he was willing to sell me out.
Someone tapped softly on my door at a quarter till midnight, and Demonseed ducked under my bed at my command. I’d been sitting awake in wide-eyed anxiety, and probably looked like hell when I opened it.
Gilt and Bloom stood in the entrance, Gilt smiling, Bloom stone-faced, both wearing long, dark robes.
The Headmistress held a white dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a Renaissance Faire.
“This is the traditional form of dress for an initiation,” she said, hanging it to me. “Get dressed. It’s time.”
I closed the door, peeled off my uniform, and pulled the white linen on without a word of dissent. She hadn’t instructed me on shoes, so I shoved my feet in the pumps. I had a feeling she wouldn’t approve of Docs under a gown- and besides, I didn’t want to touch Dominic’s ring or letter, which were still stuffed in the toe of one boot.
When I opened the door again, there was a sharp pleasure in her smile as she looked me over. “Grandfather will be quite pleased,” she said, reaching out to adjust a lock of my hair. I just barely managed to prevent myself from jerking backwards, enduring her touch with a forced smile.
“Who-”
“She looks fine, Auntie,” Bloom said, cutting me off. “Let’s get this done with.”
“Patience is a virtue, dear.” Gilt pulled my door shut as I stepped into the hallway.
They walked with me, one on either side. The soft gown fluttered around me like white wings, and I felt like a bird knowingly plummeting to its death, my heartbeat a staccato drumming in my chest.
These are your last minutes as a Darke. I took a deep breath and released it. It’s truly dead to you forever now.
I couldn’t believe I was going to go through with it. Maybe I should’ve run while I had the chance.
A pale figure crossed the hall in front of us, but I was the only one who reared back.
“What is it, Miss Darke?” Gilt looked annoyed, but then she smiled. “Ah, that might be the last time you ever hear that.”
They hadn’t seen her. Josephine was walking the corridors with us.
We turned the corner and Josephine waited outside Gilt’s open office door. Her dark eyes bored into each of us as we passed, and I carefully avoided turning my head to look back at her as we passed.
If Gilt and Bloom didn’t see her, it was because she didn’t want to be seen.
A book was laid out on Gilt’s desk, bound in rippled black leather and stamped with scrolling gold sigils.
“The family grimoire,” the Headmistress said, striding behind her desk and placing her hand on the cover reverently. “Where every member of our family, by blood, marriage, or adoption, is listed. You’ll now join these hallowed ranks, Lucrezia Darke.”
Josephine strolled behind the desk, stopping at Gilt’s side and looking down at the book. Bloom was on Gilt’s other side, and I felt like I was being examined by a committee of three, one pair of eyes distant, one triumphant, and one furious.
“What if I want to remain a Darke?” My voice was quiet, yet seemed to fill the silent room.
Gilt’s lips thinned but remained smiling. “I own you, Miss Darke. Do try to make this easier on yourself.”
The clock on the wall above her desk showed three minutes to midnight. Only seconds later, Professor Gray strode in, wearing dark robes over one of her fruity dresses, followed by Professor Sweet.
“Naomi, Katrina,” Gilt said, nodding to each of them in turn. She pulled something out of her desk, and laid a long, dark quill over the top of the grimoire. The end of the quill had been dipped in gold, the feather’s vanes smoothed over by the metal, and the nib was fresh and sharp.
A tiny seed of hope blossomed behind my ribs as the clock ticked. One minute till midnight, and Dominic still wasn’t here.
If he didn’t come, they wouldn’t have three witnesses. The initiation would be legally null and void. I could still be a Darke.
Ten seconds till midnight, and the seed grew, relief coursing through me. He wasn’t going to let them do this.
I’d kiss him the next time I saw him.
“Dominic, be welcome and witness the joining of our newest coven-sister.”
My heart plummeted into my stomach, lungs frozen in my chest. Bloom’s eyes flicked to the door. Her venom was gone, replaced with greed and want.
The door quietly snicked shut, and I felt his presence move into place behind me.
Betrayal was a cold lump in my gut.
“We now have three outsiders present at the hour of the witch, to bear witness as Lucrezia Darke sheds her past as snakes shed their skin, and joins the coven of Giltglass, whole and new.”
The Headmistress carefully opened the book, her claws shifting the yellowed parchment pages. Hundreds of names were scrawled in the grimoire with a reddish ink.
Not ink. Blood. Most of it was old, faded, and flaking, dots and sprays spattering the pages here and there.
She reached the end, where only half the page had bee
n filled in, and beckoned me forward. The metal bloodletting knife she’d used when I’d been sold into Cimmerian gleamed in her other hand.
“Come and join us. Become sister and daughter, Lucrezia Gilt.”
I took the knife, a repeat of my first day in here, which seemed like it had happened a thousand years ago.
Gilt’s pale blue, bloodshot eyes met mine over the book, lit only by the flickering candles in her office. She looked like a demon out of a medieval illumination.
She owned me. On paper, in shackles, with her periapt in my arm.
There was no running now.
I pressed the blade to my skin, and blood welled. It was so sharp I hardly felt it.
She handed me the gold-dipped quill next. I let my blood seep into the nib and leaned over the grimoire.
Mallory Gilt was listed four names up, followed by Annabelle, Patricia, and Eleanor Gilt.
No boys. Not even Ivy Bloom, related by blood, was listed in this grimoire.
I felt a sudden surge of understanding of her hatred. She wasn’t even deemed important enough for Gilt to hold an initiation ceremony for her.
The tip of the quill trembled over the page, my hand refusing to move. I couldn’t resist Gilt face to face, not yet, but Dominic could say something. He could stop this.
But he was silent.
“Get on with it,” Bloom hissed through clenched teeth.
I signed my new name, taking my time to make every line perfect just to irritate Bloom: Lucrezia Vesta Gilt.
My blood seeped into the parchment and bound me to a new coven.
Gilt let out a breath when I dropped the quill on the grimoire and straightened up, the sound so heavy with relief, I wondered if she’d thought I would fight her on this.
“Do all bear witness to the naming of a new sister and daughter?”
“I do,” the three behind chorused. Dominic’s voice was a deep murmur, but I felt it in my chest like a knife.
I was one of them. One of the enemy. And I’d gone to it as meekly as a lamb.
“Welcome to the fold, my child,” Gilt said, her smile more genuine than I’d ever seen it, but also more frightening. “You have a new home and family now.”
