“I know she was,” I said.
Even if I’d never met her, I couldn’t help but want to avenge the young woman they’d murdered fifty years ago. I just didn’t want it enough to never see my brother again. As much as I wanted to earn my father’s approval and do the one thing he and my mother had raised me for, I’d have walked away from all of it if there had been even a chance of Ash and me finding a safe place to hide.
“She deserves to find peace, Willow,” my father said, his voice softening before he continued on. “And you deserve to have what is yours by birthright.”
“I don’t give a damn about my birthright,” I said.
The confession hung between us. Collecting the bones was a means to an end, a necessity for my aunt and all those who came before her to find their way home.
Most of the witches of the Coven drew their power from nature. The Greens, like my mother, from the earth; the Whites from crystals; the Yellows from fire.
But the Blacks had been different.
We drew our power from the bones of our ancestors, from the magic that only existed within our line. Without those bones, we were nothing, and they were tucked safely within the boundary of Crystal Hollow somewhere.
I felt them—knew that they existed. Any wise person would have burned them with salt when they killed off the last of us just to be safe, but someone had kept them instead.
A perverse collector’s item, I was certain.
The last of the necromancers.
I scoffed as my father spoke, his words a regurgitation of everything he’d said over the course of my life. I’d been too young to remember when he taught me the principle of summoning, of how to use my blood and wear the bones of my ancestors to raise the dead.
“Do you have any idea what I would give to be the witch our ancestors chose to wear the bones?”
“I have some idea,” I said, letting the bitterness come through in my voice. I knew exactly what he would give to be chosen.
He would give them me. He would sacrifice me in a heartbeat if he thought the bones would fall to the only remaining member of the Hecate line. It was why he’d only had one child, so that there would only be one person standing in his way.
The sacrificial lamb.
He didn’t feel their call. Didn’t hear them whispering to him in the night when there should have been silence.
For Ash’s sake, that couldn’t happen. I’d grown up knowing that one day, I would either have to kill my father or allow him to kill me.
The ringing of the doorbell saved us from having to acknowledge that reality, making me sit up quickly as I glanced toward the door.
“Fuck,” I hissed, hoping for the first time that it was just a pesky, nosy neighbor coming with a casserole to pry into our business and my plans for how I would support the two of us.
My father hung up without a word. There was no touching goodbye—even knowing that if that was who I feared it may be, he might never see me again. There was a very good chance I wouldn’t survive Hollow’s Grove University.
I hurried for the door, sprinting to the stairs. My relief pulsed through the air when Ash remained safely tucked inside and out of sight. He’d been forbidden from answering the door years ago in an effort to protect him, leaving me to huff a breath as I adjusted my gray sweater and hurried down the stairs.
“Go into the kitchen and stay out of sight,” I whispered, shooing him as far from the front door as possible.
He did as he was told, tucking himself into the kitchen, though he lingered near the doorway so that he could listen to what might be said.
His curiosity would be the end of me.
I drew in a deep breath, trying to convince myself that it would just be Mrs. Johnson waiting on the other side. That she’d thought to see if we’d eaten already and brought us another lasagna. Placing a hand on the gold-plated doorknob, I glanced down at the amulet I’d already fastened around my neck. The chain was irrelevant, but the black tourmaline nestled safely within the rose-gold wire cage would protect against compulsion. All witches in the Coven wore them when they came of age, and I’d be damned if I risked facing one at my door without it.
With my free hand, I reached up and unfastened the chain and deadbolt. Twisting the knob as I confirmed with one last glance behind me that Ash had remained hidden, I pulled the door open a crack and peeked outside.
I swallowed as my eyes landed on the male standing on the front porch. He was alone, his lips twisted into the faintest of smiles. I had no doubt it was meant to be reassuring, softening his full lips from the tense set that seemed to linger beneath the unfamiliar gesture.