The Coven (Coven of Bones, #1)(37)
“And how do you convince a Vessel not to simply take the blood it needs?” Della asked.
“You can’t,” I said, turning my gaze to her. There was nothing on this earth that would convince a Vessel not to feed.
I smiled when Susannah kept quiet, but we shared a knowing look. For once, she understood that I knew something that her vows to the sanctity of the Coven had kept her from revealing. She could not incite violence between the witches and Vessels outright.
The only way a witch could keep a Vessel from feeding was to invoke the price of a broken bargain. The price was servitude—the inability to reject the other’s demands.
If Gray failed to protect me from harm as promised, his life would belong to me.
Whether I found the bones or not.
18
GRAY
I strode down the stairs of Hollow’s Grove, aiming for the Courtyard. One of the witches trailed at my side, her face carefully controlled as she wrung her hands in front of her. Her nerves pulsed off her, and I knew it wasn’t unfounded.
Fifty years ago, I’d nearly strangled a witch for delivering similar news.
The witch moved out of the main entryway, not even glancing at me as I followed. I’d not even bothered putting on a shirt when she knocked on my door, needing to see the evidence for myself. It was impossible for such a thing to be occurring all over again.
We’d found the person who’d confessed to the crimes and brought him to justice accordingly.
The Covenant stood in the courtyard, side by side, as they stared at the ground just in front of the trellis that Willow had made an offering to. Fresh life filled the entirety of the space at the very center of the school, leaving absolutely no doubt that something had transpired. If Willow hadn’t already admitted what she’d done, Iban likely would have.
Especially when I saw what rested on the ground.
Her eyes stared at the skies above, blank and unseeing, as I maneuvered my body over the edge and went through the window. The witch who’d come to inform me of the death stayed behind, pressing her hand to her mouth.
The body of the young witch was half-wrapped in thorny vines. Her arms and legs covered by roses as if the plant could claim her body for itself and pull her into the earth in that very spot. They moved over her skin, writhing and alive in ways I hadn’t seen in decades.
I stepped closer to her, recognizing her as one of the students we’d brought from outside Crystal Hollow. She was one of the Thirteen—one of the few students in attendance who did not have a family history within the boundaries of the town.
Few knew the truth of the events that had predated the massacre that killed so many of our numbers. Even fewer knew the gory details of the reality the Thirteen students of that year had faced.
I couldn’t recall the witch’s name, but I bent down at her side. Reaching forward, I touched a finger to each of her eyelids—drawing them closed. It horrified me to think that none had bothered already, and I looked up to glance at the gathered crowd.
Willow caught my eyes immediately, staring at the body in confusion. I suspected the young witch hadn’t seen much death in her life until her mother left her.
“We should close the school. Now,” George said, voicing a thought I knew Susannah would not agree with. The Covenant made eye contact with one another, and even Susannah sighed as she shook her head. Her chest fell, her boney body sagging even when there was no air in her body.
Or you know, lungs.
“We will not allow whoever is responsible for this to deter our students from the education they deserve. It must be a copycat, someone who thinks to joke by instilling that terror in the students once again,” she said, and I wondered what it would take for her to see the reality.
If this happened once again, there would be no new blood for her to mix with her witches.
“What of Willow? She isn’t safe here,” George said, glancing toward where the Witchling watched our interaction closely. She growled, the sound rivaling the fiercest of Vessels as she lifted herself over the ledge and into the Courtyard.
She passed by the Covenant, ignoring them entirely as she touched a hand to the vines that had wrapped themselves around the young witch. She pulled at them, muttering beneath her breath in Latin and commanding them to let go of the bounty they’d discovered. The vines obeyed, retreating into the ground slowly, as if they no longer wanted to cause the witch further harm.
“They wouldn’t listen to me,” a male voice said, and I looked up to stare into the brown eyes of the Bray elder. Suspicion lurked in his gaze as he looked at Willow, as she lifted dirt from the ground and rubbed it into the welts on the dead witch’s body. “Interesting that they will listen to you. Almost as if they recognize you.”
“That’s because they do,” Willow said, looking over the rest of the witch. She searched for wounds, I realized, looking for the cause of her death. “I made an offering to this Courtyard when I arrived at Hollow’s Grove.” She pushed the other woman’s blazer away from her chest, wincing when the fabric stuck to her skin.
The blood from the hole in her chest had begun to dry, sealing the fabric against her. She must have lay here undiscovered for quite some time for that to happen.
As it had been fifty years ago, something had been taken from the witch—something vital. Where her heart should have been was nothing but a gaping hole, and Willow stared into it. The other students who had gathered reacted far differently than she did, shocked gasps filling the courtyard.