by Sarah Piper
Deirdre stepped aside to let a group of jugglers pass. One of them dropped a tennis ball, and Sunshine bounded after it, but one growl from Sparkle had her running back.
I smiled, wondering if the hounds were sisters.
“Hunters, demons, supernatural factions who don’t believe witches should’ve been entrusted with earth’s magic,” Deirdre continued. “Many have been seeking the witches of prophecy, in hopes of killing them and preventing the rise of power. But the hunters are less discriminating. They’ll kill any witch, prophecy or not. They just want to eradicate us. Somehow, they think wiping us off the map would restore them to their former glory, complete with all the Elemental magic they once had.”
“What about the Fae Council? Are they trying to get in on a piece of this prophecy action, too?” It wouldn’t surprise me. Witches in power—in a big, united group—could really pose a threat to them. They’d be outnumbered for sure, and probably out-magicked.
“Officially, they’ve dismissed it as bunk—a rumor crafted by witches during the European witch trials as a way to legitimize themselves and avoid persecution. But there are many fae who believe magic is their sole domain, and they don’t feel witches ever should have had access to it.”
A small crowd had gathered on a corner, and we stopped alongside them to watch a group of street performers—a cellist and two guitarists. The blend of their music was as smooth and rich as dark chocolate, lulling us all into a state of peaceful contentment. They played with their eyes closed, their faces simultaneously serious and happy, and I couldn’t help but envy them.
I knew nothing about their lives, their struggles, but in that moment, they were free, carried away by the art of their music, their passion and talents bringing a group of random strangers together on a street corner. For five minutes, all of our problems were suspended. Nothing else existed but the music and the connection, a thread that held us all together in this strange city.
And then the moment passed. They finished their song to a round of applause, and Deirdre slipped a few dollars into an open guitar case at their feet.
“This,” she said, smiling as she watched the musicians pack up their instruments, “is one of the few things I truly love about this city.”
We walked on in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. My head was already spinning, but I sensed there was so much more to this story. So much more we hadn’t even begun to touch on.
“So if I’m a Silversbane,” I finally said, “Sebastian must think I’m connected to this prophecy somehow. That I can find these four witches for him. Right?”
It made sense in my mind. He either thought they’d already died and could somehow be resurrected into new vessels, forced under his control, or he thought they were still alive and could be located with the help of their ancestors. Our ancestors.
Either way, he wanted control of those witches. He wanted the power promised by the prophecy.
“Connected to it?” Deirdre gripped my arm, stopping me in my tracks and leaning in close. Her blue eyes were fierce, her voice low and serious. “Rayanne. You are the witch foretold to unite the covens. The Silversbane heir.”
The Silversbane heir.
The magic inside me roiled at her words, rising to the surface. Blue sparks lit up my hands, and I shoved them into my sweatshirt pockets to hide them.
“That makes no sense, Deirdre. First of all, I’m an only child. And second—”
My words evaporated as the truth marched across her face, plain and obvious and… No. It couldn’t be. It was completely impossible. Absurd.
“You’re wrong,” I insisted, shaking my head vehemently even as I felt the truth of it in my gut. In my bones. In my magic. Everything inside me was buzzing and warm, pieces clicking together in my mind, gaps filling in to form a complete story I hadn’t even known I’d been missing.
As hard as I tried to fight it, I couldn’t ignore the rightness of her confession.
I was the Silversbane heir. That’s why Sebastian had wanted me. Why the guys felt compelled to protect me. Why even Death himself couldn’t predict my future. Why I kept defying expectations and breaking rules and doing things I never should’ve been able to do, even as a powerful Shadowborn.
The force of that realization nearly knocked me over.
“Breathe, Rayanne. Just breathe.” Deirdre cupped my face, her smile kind once again. Her eyes twinkled, shining with something that looked a lot like pride. “It’s true. You are one of the four Silversbane witches of prophecy. The Shadowborn. That is what the Tarot was trying to tell you.”
“But… I have sisters?” My eyes misted, my heart hammering inside.
“Three of them. You were separated from each other when your parents died, adopted into different homes in an effort to protect you from those who sought to kill you.”
Separated.
Sisters.
Parents died.
Adopted.
Kill you.
The words were coming at me so fast, I couldn’t even grab onto any of them, let alone make sense of everything Deirdre was telling me. I closed my eyes, sucking in a deep breath of warm Vegas air.
Focus, Gray. Focus.
“I was practically still a baby when I was adopted,” I said, opening my eyes. “Why would someone kill babies? We couldn’t have had much power back then, even together.”
“As the witches foretold to unite the covens under a single banner, you had immense power. Just by existing, you were a threat to anyone who benefited from keeping witches subjugated. We reasoned—”
“We?”
“My coven. You four were in my care after your parents died. We knew you would be hunted, especially as you came into your powers. Together, you’d be so impossibly strong, so clearly the witches of prophecy, we wouldn’t be able to hide you. But we thought if you were raised in separate homes, there was a chance you might survive. As long as you didn’t reunite, the prophecy could not be set in motion.”
“But we were sisters! And we never had a chance to know each other!”
Sympathy and sorrow filled her eyes. “I regret that. Truly. But understand, Rayanne. If you’d been allowed to stay together, you never would’ve survived.”
“And now? What happens next? Where are they? How can I find them?”
“Now it’s out of my hands, and in the hands of fate. It seems the time of the prophecy is upon us. There is no way to stop the wheel of time, and no way to prevent you from reconnecting with your sisters. They will be called to you through the blood spell to contact the souls of your ancestors. Whether you want this or not, Rayanne, the four will reunite. And you will lead them.”
An image flickered through my mind—the three women I’d seen in my dream, all dressed in white, carrying their silver swords. The muscular blonde. The dark-haired girl with a braid wrapped around her head. The one with a shaved head, dressed in a hospital gown—the only one who’d sparked any sense of familiarity.
Their images sharpened in my mind.
“Yes,” Deirdre said softly, undoubtedly reading the imprints from my nightmares. “Those were your sisters. Their essences are reaching out to you. Consciously or not—they, too, sense that the time has come.”
“Why does one of them feel so familiar to me?” I asked. “I don’t think I recognize her, but there’s something… I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Serena,” Deirdre said. “She’s the first born.”
The first born. The oldest. My big sister. I have a big sister.
Hope flamed in my chest.
“She’s familiar to because you… you’ve already met her.”
“Serena?” I scanned my memory, but couldn’t recall a single person I’d ever met with that name.
“You know her under her adopted name.” My grandmother met my eyes, her own cold and steely, unwavering in their brutal honesty even as my heart threatened to burst.
For so long, the closest thing I’d ever had to a sister was Sophie. As far a
s I was concerned, she was my sister, blood or not. When I lost her, I lost a piece of my heart I’d never get back. I lost Sophie as a person, as a friend. I lost her light, her magic, her laughter, her love. But I’d also lost the chance to be a sister. To have that bond with another woman. I’d grieved it, just as I’d grieved Sophie herself.
Now, Deirdre was about to change all of that. The next words out of her mouth were going to shake my foundations to the core. Change my world forever. Bring the impossible, amorphous idea of “you have three sisters” into a solid, firm, and very real person. A person I’d already crossed paths with at some point in my life.
A name had infinite power, and Deirdre Olivante was about to unleash that power on me.
“Who is she?” I asked, my voice shaking. “What’s my sister’s name?”
Deirdre closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Haley Barnes.”
Seventeen
Asher
“That stench is starting to become a situation.” Haley wrinkled her nose at the dead heap of flesh and bones formerly known as Benson. “I can’t believe they just left him here. Aren’t they supposed to be brothers or something?”
“Brothers?” I thought of Ronan and Darius. Emilio. Hell, even Liam had a better chance of earning a place on my favorites list than these hunter pricks.
I kicked Benson’s boot through the bars. “These assholes don’t know the first thing about brotherhood.”
“Apparently they don’t know the first thing about biohazard contamination, either.” Haley resumed her pacing, trying to breathe through her mouth. “We need a plan. My hope-o-meter is starting to run dangerously low.”
“You need to sit down, or it’s not just your hope-o-meter you’ll have to worry about, not that I ever want to say that word again. They’re not feeding you enough to fuel all this fidgeting.” I grabbed her shoulders, gently steering her to the center of the chamber to sit with the other witches. The rest of the group had gone eerily quiet—including my favorite trouble-maker, McKenna. Energy and hope were both in short supply.
Shit, Jonathan had really done a number on them. It was a wonder they were still alive.
I hope you’re ripping that mother fucker a dozen new assholes, Cupcake. Preferably with a sharp knife.
“We’ll figure this out together,” I assured all of them. “But right now, we need to conserve energy.”
“You seem to be doing okay,” Haley teased. “And you haven’t eaten anything either.”
Of the twenty-seven witches imprisoned in this room, she seemed to be in the best spirits. I needed her to stay that way, to help keep the others relaxed and upbeat. The second doubt started creeping in, we’d all be doomed.
“I’m different,” I told her. “I don’t need food the way you do.”
“So I’ve heard.” She flashed a devilish smirk. “You know I’m going to make Gray spill all the details once we get out of this place, right?”
“You can try, Hay. But trust me. Gray is not a kiss-and-tell kind of girl.”
Her eyes lit up, and she jabbed me with an accusatory finger. “So you did kiss her! I knew it!”
“You’ll have to ask her,” I said, not bothering to hide my own goofy-ass grin. Damn, just thinking about Gray again made my whole body buzz. I tried to imagine her telling Haley about our time together, her creamy cheeks blushing as she rehashed all the juicy details, acting out her soft moans of pleasure as we…
Fucking hell. I was hard already. Talk about a situation.
Turning away from Haley, I adjusted my pants and said, “No more talking. I need time to think.”
Haley laughed. “Whatever you say, incubus. But I’m telling you. As soon—”
Her words died at the sound of new footsteps in the corridor. A whole fucking lot of ‘em.
“Everyone stay back,” I whispered to the witches, slipping back into the shadows just before a group of fae soldiers marched into view.
Marched? Scratch that. It was more like a glide. I heard their footsteps like any other soldiers, but their feet never seemed to touch the ground.
They were elite, that much was obvious. Every movement coordinated, not a step or breath out of place. Their uniforms were pristine—black, form-fitting fatigues that allowed for a full range of motion and plenty of places to stash weapons. The black-and-gold insignia on their armbands marked them as Darkwinter.
Orendiel was at the head of the line.
Fuck.
They lined up in perfect formation, and once they were all assembled, they fell so completely still and silent, I wasn’t sure they were even breathing.
Gone were the lackey, ragtag hunter pukes Jonathan had hired. These guys meant serious business.
My fucking hope-o-meter just dropped by about a thousand.
“Good afternoon, witches,” a deep, commanding voice called.
From the back of the line came the shuffle and stomp of a pair of boots that most certainly didn’t belong to the fae. They were clunky and intrusive, unleashing a grunt with every labored step.
A man appeared before the bars—human, about sixty-five, limping slightly, with broad shoulders that hunched beneath a loose-fitting flannel. His face was tired and weather-worn, the lower half covered with an unkempt white beard. His eyes, though. They were sharp. Deadly. Unfeeling.
Seeing him was like a straight punch in the gut. I solved the damn mystery before he introduced himself, and it took every last ounce of willpower I had not to rush the bars and tear out his fucking throat.
Dirty Beard. The fuckface piece of shit coward hunter who’d burned Gray’s mother alive right in front of her.
“Most of you knew my son, Jonathan,” the old man began, dragging his baton along the bars. The fae magic keeping us locked in here popped and buzzed at the contact. “I’m sure you’re all great admirers of his work, as are we. Sadly, he’s decided to move on to… other opportunities. I’ve brought in some new management.”
Other opportunities? I wondered if this jackoff had any clue that his precious baby boy was probably being mutilated by the witch whose mother they killed ten years ago.
Probably not. Seemed unlikely he’d even care. From the looks of things, he and his little army had been waiting in the wings for the first opportunity to storm the castle. Now, with Jonathan missing and the rest of the hunters he’d commanded bumbling around in the chaos, it looked like daddy dearest was taking his shot.
“I’m here to assure you that Jonathan’s work will continue,” he said. “However, we’ll be making a few changes to better suit our needs—starting with the location. Later this evening, you’ll be transferred to another facility in the city—one with more equipment and better security. Any questions?”
“Where’s our food and water?” one of the witches asked.
“Rations will resume upon arrival at our new location. Provided there are no incidents along the way. Next question?”
“Where are we going?” Someone else asked.
“That is classified. Anyone else?”
Man, I wanted to throttle this prick. He was really letting this fake-militia shit go to his head. Problem was, no matter how much of a toolbox he looked and sounded like—and it was a damn big one, don’t get me wrong—deep down he was as badass as they came. One look into those dead eyes told me everything I needed to know. He was definitely the type of guy who spent his childhood mashing spiders, pulling wings off butterflies, and plotting revenge against every motherfucker who’d ever pissed in his Cheerios.
I’m guessing it was a long list.
Someone else was asking about the food again.
I nudged McKenna with my elbow. “Hey,” I whispered. “Ask him about the escaped incubus.” I needed to know how much they knew about me—where they thought I’d gone.
“What about the d-demon?” she asked, injecting a little fear into her voice. Nice touch.
“Demon?” Dirty Beard scoffed. “I presume you’re talking about the incubus? He’s been appre
hended. Nothing to worry about.”
I bit back a laugh.
You dumb fuck. I’m going to apprehend my boot so far up your ass, you’ll be shitting footprints for a month.
As Dirty Beard rattled off the rules and regulations he expected all the witches to follow during the transport, Haley, McKenna and I huddled close, trying to come up with some semblance of a plan.
“What kind of fae are they?” Haley whispered. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen any like that.”
“Darkwinter,” I said. “Take every terrible nightmare you’ve ever heard about the winter courts, and multiply it by a thousand. Oh, and that hunter yammering up front? That’s the sonofabitch who murdered Gray’s mother.”
“Oh, shit.” A chill rolled through her body, but Haley stood firm. “I’m not going to let them torture us for one more fucking day.”
“Same page, Hay. But, ah, you got a plan?”
“I have one,” a small voice said from the shadows behind me.
“You’re the super-demon, Ash,” Haley said. “What’s your plan?”
I gestured toward the bars, where Dirty Beard was gearing up for another round of demands while Orendiel and the Douchebag Brigade stood around like stiff, well-dressed corpses. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in a in bit of a bind right now.”
“I know a way out,” the voice whispered again.
“What about Detective Alvarez?” Haley asked. “Surely he’s found the cave entrance by now. They’re probably working on a breakout plan as we speak.”
“We don’t even know if he got Reva’s message,” I said.
“Guys!” Reva shout whispered, finally getting our attention. I looked down at her and sighed, hating that she had to spend even one night in this dank place. She was so small, so thin.
No matter how long I lived, I’d never stop being surprised at just how monstrous men could be.
“What was that?” Dirty Beard asked, and I froze, clamping a hand over Reva’s mouth.
