“What if you trapped it in a rock?” a White witch asked, toying with the crystals she held in her palm. Her dark lashes fluttered nervously, as if she already knew the answer.
“It can work for a time, but there is very little that can entrap a Vessel for long. They’re strong enough to break rock,” Susannah answered, and I found my mind wandering to what Gray would think of this conversation.
Of her educating his students on how to harm him.
“I think maybe you’re the best one to answer this question, Covenant. After all, you cannot kill that which is already dead,” I said, raising a brow as she spun to glare at me from those creepy, empty sockets. I thought I might have seen her bones tip into a smile, if such a thing was possible?
Could you smile when you didn’t have a mouth?
I shuddered when Susannah spoke. “The only way to weaken a Vessel is to deprive it of its food source. Only then can you entrap it in the earth long enough for it to slowly fade into nothing. Without witch’s blood to maintain the Vessel, it simply ceases to be, eventually.”
“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.