The Coven (Coven of Bones, #1)(17)

“That sounds like a challenge, Witchling,” Thorne said, grinning as if he’d won something. “I very much look forward to reminding you how much I hate you when I bury my cock between your thighs.”

I flushed, my mouth dropping open as I fumbled for words. Thorne’s steely blue eyes burned with cold as he studied me, his smile broadening when I didn’t have a quick enough response.

“Called it,” the woman said, saving me from having to come up with a response. I shifted my gaze toward her, trying to quell the racing of my heart. It was all according to the plan my father had decided would be the most likely to produce results, so why couldn’t I squash the dread sinking into my stomach?

“Are we nearly there?” I asked, swallowing as I looked out the window once again.

The trees seemed taller, more ominous, the farther we got from the main road. The mist seemed to spread, thickening and becoming more difficult to see through. The brush and dead leaves on the forest floor were lost to it, and I realized how startling the forest was without that. It was something I’d become so familiar with, something I needed to feel rooted.

I didn’t like it when I couldn’t see the earth at my feet.

“Nothing to say?” Thorne asked, and I didn’t bother to glance at him. I knew the exact expression I would find if I did, could hear the smug note of satisfaction in his voice.

“I learned long ago that sometimes silence is louder than words. I see that is a lesson you’ve somehow managed to avoid in your centuries haunting our world,” I said, keeping my eyes trained on the unnatural stillness of the woods.

There were no birds to be found in the trees or squirrels climbing up the trunks as the woman took the bends slowly. We were going up a slow, steady incline, but even looking behind me, I couldn’t see any movement in the treetops.

I returned my gaze to my window, studying the mist as it shifted and moved. A black streak darted through it, appearing for only a moment before it was gone again.

“Did you see that?” I asked, turning a shocked stare back to Thorne once again.

“Creatures far worse than witches call these woods home. You’d do well to remember that should you get thoughts of running off,” he answered, and I tried not to think of the massive black thing or the glimpse of glowing eyes.

What manner of beast was that large?

The slope of the hill grew sharper, creating a steady, winding bend that seemed to go on and on forever. It reminded me of the on-ramp for the interstate when Mom and I had taken Ash to the aquarium in New York. A continuous circle that made my stomach twist with the curve. I had no doubt that if it hadn’t been for the belt strapped across my chest, I would have slid toward Thorne unwillingly.

As we climbed and came to the top of what I’d assumed to be a hill, I realized it was, in fact, a cliff. The school jutted up out of the cliff side, arches and spires reaching for the sky. It was built in light gray stone, with arched windows and doors covering the face of the building. The window atop the main doors was enormous, half the height of the school in its entirety, with detailed windowpanes that laid out Hecate’s maze.

My skin throbbed at the visual symbol of the Goddess who’d created us all. The first witch who’d led to all of our creation, forming an alliance with the devil and leading to the witches serving him.

She’d been the first necromancer, the first to summon the other clans of the Coven for each to be bestowed with magic. The condition of her being the first witch had meant that she and her descendants would be the only ones to have power over the dead, reserving that ability for herself.

Reserving it for me.

The car came to a stop in front of the main entrance, and I didn’t hesitate to shove open my door and stand before the school. The steps leading up to the doors were six in number. Six steps, six doors, and six windows surrounding them. I turned to look to the other side of the car as the Vessels stepped out, my eyes landing on the memorial stone overlooking the sea. I made my way to it, sidestepping Thorne as he reached for me.

It was a simple granite slab, with the names of the dead carved into it. “They’re the witches who were lost in the massacre,” the woman answered, her voice solemn. “They say their ghosts still haunt the school.”

I forced myself not to let any emotion show when I found my aunt’s name.

Loralei Hecate.

“It’s a shame there aren’t more names here,” I said, twisting my lips into a scowl. It was, in a sense, a horror that the Vessels could rarely be killed alongside the witches, and that those who had corrupted the Coven hadn’t been the ones to die.

My hatred ran deep, but it didn’t run quite that deep.

The woman blinked at me as I turned my back on the memorial, giving no indication that I knew any of the names found there. None could suspect I was aware of any of the events that transpired in more than a vague sense, or that I had any personal connection to them.

My mother hadn’t been related to Loralei, and my father, well…

He wasn’t my father as far as the Coven knew.

The Hecate line had died with my aunt, and for now, that was how it needed to stay.





10





WILLOW





Thorne appeared at my side, lacing his arm through mine as I made my way to the doors.

“Will someone go and fetch my things from my mother’s house?” I asked, trying to pull my arm free from him.