by Sarah Piper
“Don’t say that,” she said. “Blood as powerful as yours is a gift.”
“My blood is a curse.” I kicked at the rocky shoreline. If I couldn’t use my blood or my magic to help the man I loved, what was the point? “And Sebastian wants to weaponize it against my ancestors.”
Deirdre stiffened. “Rayanne—”
“Gray. I go by Gray now.” Rayanne was a remnant of a past too painful to remember. The only other person who still called me by that name was Jonathan, and he wasn’t even a person anymore.
“Gray,” she said, though I could tell she wasn’t fond of the name. “He’s not interested in your deceased ancestors. He’s interested in your mother.”
“Calla?” I asked, alarmed.
Deirdre shook her head. “Your biological mother. My daughter-in-law.”
“Doesn’t she count as a deceased ancestor?”
“Oh, child. There is so much…” Deirdre’s face paled, her mouth pulling into a deep frown. The wind stilled. The hounds stopped chasing each other up ahead. Even the waves hushed, as if they, too, were waiting to hear her next confession.
“I’m afraid your mother isn’t dead, Gray. A fugitive from hell, but very much alive.”
Twenty-Four
Gray
Your mother isn’t dead… A fugitive from hell… Very much alive...
Deirdre’s words slammed into my chest, forcing all the air out of my lungs. She didn’t even give me a chance to catch my breath before she continued, her sentences blurring together, each one another blow from which I didn’t think I could recover.
“Trinity,” she was saying now. “That was her name.”
Trinity. I reached back in my mind, but found nothing. No connection. No recognition.
“When she became pregnant with you, she’d already had two of your three sisters—Serena, the oldest, and Adele, a year younger. But you, she insisted, were different. Special.”
“Wait. Did I… did I have another name? Before Rayanne?”
“Morgan Susanna,” Deirdre said with a soft smile. “Your name was changed before your adoption to protect you.”
“Morgan Susanna.” I said it out loud, trying it on for size. It didn’t fit. Not at all. Like Rayanne, it felt like someone else’s name now. “I think I’ll stick with Gray.”
“If you must.” Deirdre winked. “Anyway, around the twenty-fourth week of your pregnancy, Trinity began to have visions of a fourth daughter, and believed that you and your sisters would become great witches, one day uniting covens in war against supernaturals in a battle for magical dominion on earth.”
“Like the prophecy,” I said. But it wasn’t. Not really. The prophecy never said anything about a battle for magical dominion.
“Partially,” Deirdre said. “But your mother was convinced. You four were the foretold witches, which must also mean she herself was an heir of Silversbane.
“The following year, your sister Georgie—the foreseen fourth daughter—came into being. One month later, your father…” She paused, pressing her hand to her heart. When she spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion. “My son, Thomas Derrick Olivante, disappeared.”
Thomas Derrick Olivante.
The name echoed between us. My father.
“Disappeared?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
“The police suspected an affair, possibly a deadbeat dad situation. But I knew better. Your father adored you. He devoted his life to his wife and daughters, and no matter how unhappy or nasty your mother became, he never gave up hope. Never once complained about taking on the burdens of housework or meals or bedtime routines.”
“So what do you think happened to him?”
Her eyes grew cold. “Your mother murdered him, Gray. I was never able to prove that, but my son was not missing. He was dead. A mother knows. I felt the departure of his soul from this realm.”
The wind whipped my hair into my face, stinging my eyes. I blinked back my own tears, snuggling deeper into my jacket. “What happened next?”
“Even without your father, you girls were thriving. It quickly became apparent that you were extremely powerful witches. Even as babies, you could heal each other’s injuries, make flowers grow on barren dirt, find lost objects, predict the future.”
Sunshine nipped at my hand, eager for another stick to throw, but I nudged her away, riveted by my grandmother’s story.
“Everyone loved the four magical babies of Blackmoon Bay,” she said, “but Trinity—”
“Wait. Blackmoon Bay?”
Deirdre nodded. “You four were born there, Gray.”
“How is that even possible? I grew up on the east coast, and after Calla died, I just sort of… ended up everywhere else. Including the Bay.”
“Yes, and you stopped ending up anywhere else once you reached the Bay.”
“Because I met Ronan, and he helped me get set up.”
“Yes, he did. But he would’ve done that anywhere. You stayed in Blackmoon Bay because the city is part of your soul. It called you home, Gray. Just like it called Haley home. And eventually, it will call your other sisters home, too.”
“But Ronan already had a life in the Bay before I came along. Friends. A job.”
“He did.”
“Don’t you think that’s kind of a crazy coincidence?” I asked. But then I said, at the same time she did, “There are no coincidences.”
We shared a laugh, breaking the tension just a bit.
As we walked a little further down the shore, I linked my arm into hers, suddenly wanting to feel connected to her. Grounded.
Deirdre tucked in closer, too.
“Trinity was a jealous woman,” she continued. “Her own mother was quite powerful, too, yet she’d never inherited the gift. Trinity’s witchcraft was mediocre at best, relying heavily on tricks and sleight of hand. The idea that her infant and toddler daughters possessed so much power, when she herself had virtually none, finally drove her mad.
“Desperate to claim your power for herself, she tried all kinds of magical experiments and spells on you and your sisters, but nothing worked—largely because she didn’t have the skill, but also because it was against the natural order. Stealing another witch’s power… it’s an abomination. No force or entity or energy outside of her own greed would’ve aided in something so sinister. So Trinity remained as weak as ever, while her daughters continued to grow in power. Finally, in a last act of desperation—”
“Oh, no.” I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. “Don’t tell me. This is the part where the evil villainess gathers up a bottle of blood and a box of chicken bones and heads down to the crossroads…”
“Yes, Gray,” she said, her tone grim again. “Your mother made a crossroads deal—no bones or blood necessary. Sebastian, as you know, trades in souls.”
A shiver ran through me, making my teeth chatter. Was my mother the one who’d sold me out to Sebastian in the first place? How could she have done such a thing?
I opened my mouth to ask, but Deirdre was already speaking again.
“The terms were simple: her daughters’ magic in exchange for her own mortal soul, to be collected in ten years’ time.”
I sighed in relief. Something told me this story had a terrible ending, but at least my mother hadn’t sold my soul. A dim light in a room full of darkness, but a light nevertheless.
“But like most desperate people in their hour of desperation,” she said, “Trinity neglected to read the fine print. She got her daughters’ magic, sure, but not in the way she intended.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, from you, she got the ability to bring the dead back to life—so long as the deceased was a plant in need of some water and sunlight. From Serena, she got the power to summon spirits with a drop of her blood—but only the spirits of her long-dead childhood cats, Maise and Matilda. Adele’s gift of foresight allowed her to see into the future—by fifteen seconds. And thanks to Georgie, a talented herbalist by age three, your m
other became adept at brewing tea.”
“That’s… it? That sounds like a practical joke.”
“Oh, it was no joke. She’d asked for her daughters’ magic, and that’s what she got. She just wasn’t specific.”
“I’m assuming she didn’t just let it go at that,” I said. “Chalk it up to a lesson learned.”
“No. She didn’t.” Deirdre shook her head, her eyes clouding with some ancient sadness I could only guess at. “Your mother wasn’t well. Not by any definition.”
An icy chill slid across my skin, my whole body erupting in goosebumps. Something dark and malicious slithered out of my memory, seeping into my mind, bringing with it flashes of something it’d long since tried to bury.
It was part of the same memory I’d recalled when Deirdre had first mentioned the name Silversbane in our meeting with Sebastian—the dark-haired woman at the creek, frantic, manic, forcing me into the water. Holding my head under, even as I fought for my last breath.
“I am Silversbane! This magic is my legacy. Mine! Why should you have it when it was promised to me? My birthright! You have stolen it, Shadowborn filth!”
New memories rushed in, filling in the gaps. My mother had promised to take us for a walk in the woods. She’d bundled us up in winter coats and hats, even Georgie, who still needed to be put in a carrier.
But she hadn’t bothered with our socks or boots. She marched us into the winter woods, our feet freezing. All of us were crying.
“No, mama!” Serena cried. “Don’t put Delly in there. She can’t swim!”
Delly. Adele. My mother pushed her into the creek first, then me. Delly crawled out on her own. My mother held me under, waiting for the cold water to press the breath from my lungs.
“Stay down! Stop squirming, little bitch!”
“Mama, stop!”
The pain in my skull had been unbearable. The blackness closing in faster than I could fight…
“It was her,” I gasped, the images finally receding. “At the creek in the woods behind our house.”
Deirdre frowned. I waited for her to deny it. To provide some other explanation. But all she said was, “I’d always hoped you girls were too young to remember. But darkness like that makes an impression on your very soul. It never leaves you.”
“My mother tried to drown us,” I said, needing to hear the words spoken out loud, even if Deirdre herself couldn’t say them. Even if they tore up my insides on the way out.
“Yes,” she said. “All four of you.”
“My mother tried to murder her babies,” I said again, as if it would make any more sense the second time around. It didn’t; this was a tale that only got more horrifying in the telling.
“I had long since suspected your mother in your father’s disappearance, but without proof, there wasn’t much I could do. She never prevented me from seeing you four girls, so I did what I could to protect you—charms, spells of protection, amulets sewn into the hems of your clothing. I visited as often as I could. It wasn’t enough.”
“So that’s how we survived that day? Protective charms?”
“That may have been part of it. But there was also a neighbor walking his dog in the woods behind his property. He heard your sister screaming for help, and ran down to the creek to find out what was going on. He told us later that your mother had insisted she was trying to save you—that Serena and Adele had snuck you and Georgie out of the house while she was in the shower, knowing that you weren’t permitted in the woods alone. She’d chased after you as soon as she’d noticed you missing She said you and Adele had fallen in the water. He called me as soon as he got your mother and you girls back to the house. She was refusing to seek medical attention for you.
“That night,” Deirdre continued, “I called on the help of my coven sisters. We cast a powerful spell to put your mother to sleep and to fully open her to the power of suggestion. While the sisters took the four of you out of the house, I worked to manipulate your mother’s memory, making her believe she’d succeeded in killing you. The coven and I saw to your adoptions, ensuring your mother never knew what had truly happened.”
Tears that had nothing to do with the bitter wind slid down my cheeks, as salty as the sea before us. My chest hurt, the pain of that day fresh in my lungs. In my skull. I didn’t know what hurt worse—nearly drowning in icy water, or learning years later that your own mother had tried to murder you. Sunshine and Sparkle pressed against my legs, stopping me from walking. Absently I reached down to pet Sunshine’s head, rubbing the notched edge of her ear. She nuzzled my hand, and the pain in my chest receded, just a little.
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I turned my attention back to Deirdre, searching for the right question to ask next. This, I sensed, was only the beginning of a much longer, much more sinister story, and I needed to tread carefully.
I didn’t know what other memories might be unlocked.
“How did she—” I began, but before I could finish the question, Deirdre’s face paled, her eyes widening in fear.
The hounds yelped, taking off down the shore, and Deirdre raised her hands in front of her chest.
Magic, I thought.
“Down,” she ordered. “Now!”
I didn’t hesitate. Just dropped to the rocky shore and covered my head, barely ducking the blast of Deirdre’s magic. Beams of bright, yellow-orange light shot out from her hands, and I twisted around to see the magic slam into a man charging toward us, gun drawn. The attack knocked him on his ass, unconscious, but more men followed in his wake, at least half a dozen goons not far behind. They rushed at us, even as the hounds bounded right for them.
“Hunters,” she deadpanned.
“Where did they come from?” I got to my feet, bringing my hands to my chest, palms out. I hadn’t used my magic since the battle with the memory eaters in the Shadowrealm, but it came to me easy now, blue flame sparking to life in my hands.
Still, it wasn’t enough. I could feel it. I was out of practice, and the hunters were closing in fast.
“I don’t know,” she said, “but we’re about to get up close and personal with a couple more.”
Closing my eyes and calling on the magic of the earth, I drew more power into my core, pushing it out through my limbs, charging my entire body.
“Now!” Deirdre shouted, and I opened my eyes and sent a blast of energy outward right alongside hers just as two hunters drew their guns on us. Deirdre and I hit them at the same time. Her man went down, unconscious like the last. Mine only stumbled and gasped.
Ten feet away, Sunshine let out a primal growl that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I saw her lunge at someone, knocking him into the water. Sparkle was still running down the beach—chasing after another hunter who’d turned tail.
Where had these assholes come from? Were they part of Jonathan’s group? Part of the prison hunters?
“You’re up again, Gray,” Deirdre said, queuing up another blast as my guy righted himself and another one charged at Deirdre.
I took a deep breath and tried again, drawing in power as a spell took shape in my mind:
Goddess of the earth, Goddess of the sea
In this battle I call upon thee
Lend me your strength, avail me of your power
Before this magic, make my enemies cower
Channeling my intentions into the words, I repeated the spell out loud, forcing the magic out through my palms.
The force of my attack was so strong, so unexpected, I had to fight to stay on my feet. It slammed into both hunters, simultaneously knocking them backward, dashing their heads against a sharp, rocky outcropping at the water’s edge.
The tide surged forward, staining the beach with their blood.
“Oh, shit,” Deirdre whispered. “That’s… not good.”
“We need to call Emilio,” I said as the rest of the hunters took off, disappearing down the shore the way they’d come. “They might be part of the group he’s looking for.”
>
We jogged to catch up with the hounds. Sparkle had dragged her quarry back to Sunshine, and now the two feasted on his body.
His face was mangled beyond recognition.
“Sparkle,” I called. “Sunshine. Come.”
The stopped their gorging and stood at attention, wagging their massive tales, panting, tongues lolling, blood and flesh dripping from their razor-sharp fangs as they padded over to me.
They were a goddamn nightmare, and if I’d eaten lunch, I’d be spewing it all over the beach. Yet when I looked at them now, all I could feel was gratitude.
“So,” Deirdre said, placing a tired hand on my back as she tried to catch her breath, “next time we plan a grandma-granddaughter outing, maybe we could try something a little more traditional? Knitting club, perhaps? Checkers?”
The leftover energy from the magic and the fight made me jittery, and I let out a nervous laugh, grateful for the small release. “Something tells me you’re not the knitting and checkers type, Grams.”
“No, child. I suppose I’m not.” She let out a sigh, pulling her coat tight around her neck. There were so many words in that sigh, so many things still unsaid between us. But for now she shook her head, looking at me with tired, knowing eyes. “And I’m sorry to tell you, neither are you.”
I looked down at my palms, the center spot where my magic had emanated from. Two men had died by my hands, yet my hands were clean, the skin smooth and unmarred.
Inside, the magic stirred. Warming me. Comforting me. Reminding me that like Deirdre, I wasn’t born to have a normal life. I could pretend otherwise, I could fight that fact as hard as I’d fought my mother when she’d held my head under that freezing water.
But in the end, the only choice I really had was acceptance.
I was a Silversbane witch. The witch of the prophecy. And my work was just beginning.
Twenty-Five
Gray
Vita mutatur, non tollitur.
