The prospect terrified me.
Just before moonrise Sarah invited me to go back out with her to gather the plants she would need for this month’s work.
I begged off, claiming I was too tired to go along. But it was the insistent call of the voices at the crossroads that made me refuse.
“Does your reluctance to go to the woods tonight have something to do with your trip there this afternoon?” Matthew asked.
“Perhaps,” I said, staring out the window. “Sarah and Fernando are back.”
My aunt was carrying a basket full of greenery. The kitchen screen slammed shut behind her, and then the stillroom door creaked open. A few minutes later, she and Fernando climbed the stairs. Sarah was wheezing less than she had last week. Fernando’s health regime was working.
“Come to bed,” Matthew said, turning back the covers.
The night was dark, illuminated only by the stars. Soon it would be midnight, the moment between night and day. The voices at the crossroads grew louder.
“I have to go.” I pushed past Matthew and headed downstairs.
“We have to go,” he said firmly. “I won’t stop you or interfere. But you are not going to the woods by yourself.”
“There’s power there, Matthew. Dark power. I could feel it. And it’s been calling to me since the sun set!”
He took me by the elbow and propelled me out the front door. He didn’t want anyone to hear the rest of this conversation.
“Then answer its call,” he snapped. “Say yes or say no, but don’t expect me to sit here and wait quietly for you to return.”
“And if I say yes?” I demanded.
“We’ll face it. Together.”
“I don’t believe you. You told me before that you don’t want me meddling with life and death.
That’s the kind of power that’s waiting for me where the paths cross in the woods. And I want it!” I wrested my elbow from his grip and jabbed a finger in his chest. “I hate myself for wanting it, but I do!”
I turned from the revulsion that I knew would be in his eyes. Matthew turned my face back toward him.
“I’ve known that the darkness was in you since I found you in the Bodleian, hiding from the other witches on Mabon.”
My breath caught. His eyes held mine.
“I felt its allure, and the darkness in me responded to it. Should I loathe myself, then?” Matthew’s voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “Should you?”
“But you said—”
“I said I didn’t want you to meddle with life and death, not that you couldn’t do so.” Matthew took my hands in his. “I’ve been covered in blood, held a man’s future in my hands, decided if a woman’s heart would beat again. Something in your own soul dies each time you make the choice for another. I saw what Juliette’s death did to you, and Champier’s, too.”
“I didn’t have a choice in those cases. Not really.” Champier would have taken all my memories and hurt the people who were trying to help me. Juliette had been trying to kill Matthew—and would have succeeded had I not called on the goddess.
“Yes you did.” Matthew pressed a kiss on my knuckles. “You chose death for them, just as you chose life for me, life for Louisa and Kit even though they tried to harm you, life for Jack when you brought him to our house in the Blackfriars instead of leaving him on the street to starve, life for baby Grace when you rescued her from the fire. Whether you realize it or not, you paid a price every time.”
I knew the price I’d paid for Matthew’s survival, though he did not: My life belonged to the goddess for as long as she saw fit.