“She was more powerful than anyone knew,” Piper retorted, “but Gryffud Penhallow stole from her, used her, erased her name.”
“How?”
Vivi whirled around to see Rhys step forward just as Piper’s gaze fixed on him, and any trace of the regular girl vanished. Her eyes went black, hair streaming back, and with that same unearthly howl Vivi had heard in the library, she launched herself at Rhys.
Without thinking, Vivi stepped forward, putting herself between Piper and Rhys, her foot stepping into the salt circle, breaking it, and felt something icy cold wash over her, pushing into her, her vision whiting out as suddenly Piper’s own thoughts, own memories, swirled through her mind.
Piper in the library researching Graves Glen’s history, her black hair hanging down over a notebook, Aelwyd Jones written in purple ink, Piper in the cabin at her altar, candles lit, runes glowing and a spell, a spell to raise Aelwyd’s spirit, but it’s too much, the magic is too much and Piper can feel it pulling at her, sucking her down, and then it’s dark, it’s so dark, and it’s cold . . .
Vivi gasped, leaves crunching under her fingers as the cold rushed out of her, her heart racing, her vision still blurry as she tried to make sense of what she’d just seen.
“Vivienne.”
Rhys was kneeling down next to her—how had she ended up on the ground?—his hands on her shoulders, his face pale, and Vivi looked beyond him to see Piper still hovering over the candle, the salt circle repaired, Elaine looking frazzled.
“I’m fine,” she managed to croak, even though she wasn’t sure she was. “Really.”
She let Rhys help her to her feet, leaning heavily against him as she stared up at Piper.
“Trying to contact Aelwyd killed you,” she said, her voice still raspy, and Piper nodded even as she continued to glare at Rhys.
“It wasn’t her fault. It was mine. My magic wasn’t strong enough to break the bonds that held her.”
Her gaze swung to Vivi. “But yours was. You called her forth with your curse, and she gave you power because you’re her blood.”
“A blood curse,” Elaine said, frowning. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“Is that bad?” Gwyn asked, and then shook her head. “Okay, stupid question, anything called a ‘blood curse’ is clearly bad.”
“So how do we lift it?” Vivi asked Piper now, and Piper smiled.
“You can’t. Only Aelwyd can do that.”
“But she’s dead,” Gwyn said, hands on her hips. “Because she got an ear infection or whatever it was that killed people back then.”
“Gryffud killed her,” Piper retorted. “When he drained her magic from her to fuel this town. He covered it up, said she’d died from influenza.”
Gwyn blinked at that, and Vivi thought again of that cave, the magic pulsing through the ley lines. Not just magic, but Aelwyd’s very life force, taken from her.
“Still,” Gwyn went on. “You died trying to contact her, so it seems like asking her to lift this curse is kind of out of the question.”
“She wouldn’t lift it even if she could,” Piper replied. “I’ve seen what it’s done to this town. This town, Gryffud Penhallow’s legacy, suffers. So does Gryffud Penhallow’s heir.”
Those malevolent eyes fixed on Rhys again, who stared back at her, nonplussed.
“Me?” he said, laying a hand on his chest. “I’m not really his ‘heir.’ There are loads of us.”
“But you’re the one who’s here.” Piper smirked. “And tomorrow is Samhain, when the veil is the thinnest, and Aelwyd’s magic will be at its most powerful.”