“What on earth makes you think I give a single fuck who Iban spent time with before he knew me?” She pressed up onto her toes, leaning closer as I fought back the rumble of laughter that fought to break free from my chest.
I didn’t know what I’d expected when the Covenant sent me to retrieve the sole remaining Madizza witch, but it definitely hadn’t been Willow with earth in her heart but fire in her blood.
“Are you not jealous that your prospective mate was cozy with another woman so recently?” Bray asked.
“I think I’m far more concerned with your preoccupation with my love life,” Willow said, backing away with a grimace. She turned away, leaving his question unanswered for a moment as she moved to pass Susannah and George. “But to answer your question, no. I am not bothered. Unlike some here, I know it’s far more fun when you’re willing to share.”
I choked. The look on Bray’s face as she strode past me was nothing short of incredulous, and Willow left us behind without a second thought.
“Follow her,” Susannah ordered, and it took me gathering myself for a moment to remember to swallow before my sharp laughter followed after the Witchling. “The school is no longer safe for Willow. Maintaining her safety is now our greatest priority.”
“Shouldn’t you be concerned about the other eleven students remaining who may be slaughtered and harvested for organs at any given time?” I asked, but I’d already turned to follow after Willow. The Covenant didn’t need to know of the bargain we’d struck, or that I had a very vested interest in keeping Willow safe from harm because of it.
“The other eleven students are not the last of an entire bloodline. You know what happens with each one that is lost.” Susannah’s voice followed after me. It was not lost on me that Willow would not welcome my presence in her room.
It also wasn’t lost on me that Willow could do whatever she wanted. She could commit nearly any crime within the walls of Hollow’s Grove, and she would survive the aftermath.
The Coven’s desperation to restore her blood had created the perfect weapon to bring about the downfall of everything they’d created—corrupted. She would either be their undoing or our salvation, and the most satisfying part of it all was that they wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop her when she took everything from them.
She wouldn’t settle for anything less.
19
WILLOW
I shuddered. The voice that surrounded me was so unfamiliar. It took me moments to realize it wasn’t mine, though it came from me. The husky, feminine sound that clawed its way up my throat wasn’t mine. I pressed a hand to my throat, attempting to trap the foreign sound there; to keep it from making the air around me feel as if it burned with the fires of Hell itself.
A woman wandered the halls, her deep ebony hair flowing to her waist as she moved as if in slow motion. She held a piece of onyx in her palm, her fingers wrapped so tightly around it that I thought it might pierce her skin. I recognized her from the photos my father had shown me, from the portraits he’d commissioned in her memory. His home hadn’t been much, a cabin hidden in the woods to help protect him from the prying eyes of the Coven that would kill him if they found out he existed. But what little money he’d had, he spent on those portraits, on preserving the memory of the sister he loved more than anything.
Her eyes sparkled in a light blue. The color was unnatural, making me think of the coldest ice on the lake when it shimmered in the moonlight. There was an almost purple tint to it, the same way my one eye tended toward the color of lilac. Her forehead was twisted into a frown, her lips parting on a silent scream. She turned to look over her shoulder, dropping the onyx at whatever she saw behind her.
I saw nothing, stepping into the darkness of the hallway in an attempt to reach her. I followed after her as she curved around the corner, glancing over her shoulder as if she were being chased. I couldn’t see anything, but I felt it.
The growl that shook the floor, that made the windows rattle in the walls.
Loralei clutched something at her hip, and it was only then that I realized what the small, black pouch must have been. It was only then that I heard the call of the bones, heard them whispering at me to come closer.
To take what was mine.
It was unassuming, looking like any tarot bag or a bag of stones and bones used for scrying. The chain that wrapped around her hip was a bright, shimmering gold that sparkled against the black of her school uniform.
“I don’t have what you seek,” she said into the nothingness. Her stare remained fixed at the end of the hall, her body flinching with each step that invisible force took.