Witch Undecided by Debbie Cassidy

Chapter Twenty-Four

“No,” Anna said. “Absolutely not.”

She stood behind her desk, fingers steepled on the wooden surface, a slight frown flirting with her brow. Sunlight streamed in through the windows behind her, catching the auburn highlights in her dark hair and setting them on fire.

I stared at her. “Why not?”

“Like I explained to Sloane this morning, the elder ghosts are fragile. The fire that took their lives was no normal fire. It was enchanted, and it burned not only their bodies but their memories too. We believe the Order was responsible. The fire is believed to be revenge for what we did to their leader Croatoan, and an insurance policy that we could never replicate the act.”

“They believe he’ll be free,” Conah said.

Anna nodded slowly. “Yes. And by destroying the witches who locked him away and burning both their memories and written accounts of how the act was achieved, they ensured that if he did get free, we’d be at a distinct disadvantage.”

So, that had been the reason for the fire. “But Meredith said she remembered something.”

Anna sighed and straightened. “Residual memories. Incomplete. She says the same things over and over from time to time, but there is nothing more. There never is. I spoke to her today and she doesn’t recall waking you or siphoning from you.” Her mouth tightened. “I’m sorry about that. In hindsight, putting you in the east wing was a bad idea. I’ve spoken to Sloane, and you’ll be bunking with her until you return to the cabin. We’ll have a new room set up for your next visit.”

If the elder ghosts’ memories had been burned away by a warlock spell, then there would be nothing for Conah to find.

I looked up at the reaper. “It was a good plan.”

“I’ll keep translating the journal,” Conah said. “There could still be a clue in there, some way to weaken the original vamps, or hurt them. Some way we can ward them off permanently.”

Anna’s smile was determined. “We won’t let them have you, Cora. I promise you, we’ll—”

There was a fizz and pop and then an envelope materialized on Anna’s desk. Silver smoke curled into the air from the cream paper.

Anna exhaled. “Finally.”

“What is it?” Conah asked.

“A message from the silent sisters.”

The silent sisters had helped put Croatoan away. “The silent sisters must know the spell used to siphon power from the Sons of Adam.”

Anna sighed and picked up the envelope. “The silent sisters were my first point of contact once Dimitri came into the picture. I asked them about the spell used all those years ago. They have no record of it. They were merely called upon to use the power to craft Croatoan’s prison. The spell itself was performed by the elder council at that time.” She deftly slit it open to pull out the note. She scanned it, her brow furrowing, before her gaze shot up to meet mine.

I didn’t like the surprise on her face. “What is it? Do they have the glamour?”

“Yes, they have it. And they’re ready for it to be picked up.”

Okay... “So why do you look worried?”

“Because they’re very specific about who collects.”

Oh boy, was she going to say what I thought she was going to say?

“They want you, Cora.”

Yep. She said it. The idea of heading to a maximum-security supernatural prison made my lungs tight with claustrophobia. But the glamour was important, and if this was the only way to get it, then so be it.

“Fine. I can leave right away.” I fingered the amulet around my neck. “I’d jump there, but I get the impression it’s quite far from here.”

Since becoming the anchor, making jumps was easier, but the amulet still muted my powers so jumping too often or too far was still a drain.

“No need.” Anna shook the envelope and a silver coin fell out. “They sent a portal.” She flicked the coin toward the wall. It turned heads over tails and then there was a flash of light and a silver door appeared. It stood a foot away from the wall, disconnected to anything. “It’ll take you to Blackmore. They’ll be expecting you.”

“I’m going with you.” Conah’s sapphire eyes were bright with concern.

“You can’t.” Anna frowned. “The portal won’t admit a demon, but I’d prefer you not to go alone, Cora. Take Sloane with you. She’s been to Blackmore before.”

I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Sloane.

She answered on the second ring. “Miss me already, cupcake?”

My pulse kicked up at the sound of her voice. I cleared my throat. “How about we play hooky and head to Blackmore to pick up a glamour?”

She was silent for a long beat. “Where you at?”

“Anna’s office.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

Sloane arrivedat Anna’s office a few minutes later and her gaze zeroed in on the portal door.

“Nice,” she drawled. “Beats driving.”

Conah didn’t look too convinced. “Mobile portals can be unstable. Are you sure this is safe?”

“The sisters wouldn’t put the anchor in danger,” Anna replied.

Sloane opened the door to reveal a swirling purple miasma of light, then held her hand out to me. “Shall we?”

I slipped my palm into hers. “Let’s do this.”

We stepped into the light.

I expected the shattering sensation that came with a jump, or a sense of being undone and reassembled, but there was no sense of displacement. One moment I was in Anna’s study and the next I was standing on gray flagstones in a small courtyard surrounded by high walls topped with iron spikes. The sky above was a churning mass of angry gray clouds.

Sloane squeezed my hand before letting go. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I scanned the empty courtyard. There were a couple of benches and a dried-up fountain but nothing more.

“This is where the sisters get some air,” Sloane said. “Come on.”

“How often have you been here?”

“Used to play courier for Anna all the time.” She arched a brow my way. “I’m usually the one they ask for.”

She led me to a door that looked like it was made of wood and iron, and at least a foot thick. There was a heavy knocker in the shape of a torch. Sloane lifted it then slammed it onto the metal, but there was no sound.

“Okay, that’s weird.”

“I know.” She shrugged. “There are a lot of weird features to this place.”

“Have you any idea why they’d ask for me to pick up the glamour?”

“Curiosity?” She raked me over. “Maybe they want to probe your mind to make sure you’re not going to go nutso like Charlotte.”

Wait, what? “Are you serious?”

She rolled her eyes. “Chill, cupcake. If they want to probe you, they’ll have to go through me.”

The grate of metal on metal cut through the silence—a lock being disengaged—and then the door was pulled open, revealing gloom lit by flickering light.

An oval face framed with unruly dark curly hair peered up at us. Wide brown eyes, a thin mouth, and a straight nose, the woman studied Sloane then me, nodded, and stepped back to admit us.

“Nice to see you too, Gertie,” Sloane said. “Been a while.”

Her voice seemed to echo in the silence. The woman winced with her eyes, as if the sound of Sloane’s voice was painful.

Sloane put her finger to her lips and mouthed, Sorry.

I leaned in and whispered, “How do you know her name? I thought they didn’t speak?”

“I don’t. I just call her that. She loves it.”

The woman frowned, then turned her back on us and hurried away down the corridor.

“And now we follow,” Sloane whispered.

The silent sister led the way down a narrow stone corridor. Sconces lit the way, flames turned low, but even with the fire, the air was chill and damp. The silence was heavy and complete. My heels made no sound as they connected with the flagstones, and every breath was muted. The place was a maze of closed doors emblazoned with glowing silver runes. Each door had an eye hatch and brass plaque with a name etched into it. Names I didn’t recognize until…

Penelope Grimswood.

I stopped and pulled open the hatch to peer inside. A figure sat cross-legged on a bed, staring straight ahead with milky white eyes.

Penelope.

Except this wasn’t Penelope.

This figure was gaunt and had no irises.

What the fuck?

Sloane gently pulled me away from the door and closed the hatch. She shook her head and then slid a glance toward the silent sister, who was glaring at us, obviously pissed.

“What’s wrong with her?”

The witch winced again, and then turned on her heel and strode off.

Sloane sighed. “Probably should have said do not touch anything.”

We jogged to catch up to the witch, the sound of our footsteps being swallowed by whatever spell was on this place.

The silent sister led us through an arch, then up a flight of worn stone steps. She pushed open a wooden door at the top and hurried into a large room saturated in sunlight. My eyes stung for a moment as they adjusted from the gloom.

We were in a circular chamber with a domed glass ceiling. The sun shone, liquid light, down into the room through a gap in the angry clouds. A gap that looked like it had been punched into the sky by a ginormous fist.

Thirteen women sat at a long table in the center of the room, faces tipped back to soak in the sunlight. Their hands were on the table in front of them.

They dropped their chins in unison as we entered the room. Sloane stepped closer to me in a protective gesture. God, she was sweet, but I could handle myself. Just fine.

I scanned their faces, dark-haired, pale, brown-eyed, all except one—a redhead with startling green eyes that looked unreal. She locked gazes with me and then raised a hand to beckon me forward.

“Go on, cupcake,” Sloane said softly.

I walked toward the table and stopped a meter or so from it. “Hey. How you doing?”

Silence greeted me and then a tingle spread across my body. “What are you—"

An invisible hand gripped my throat, cutting off my breath and my words with it.

“Cora?” Sloane’s voice was a distant thing, and then I was no longer in the room.

The world was gray and silver mist rose up around me, thick and viscous.

I turned on the spot, scanning the thick mist. “Hey? What the hell?” The air was thicker, heavier, and my body felt detached and grounded at the same time. “This is the kind of shit that makes me stabby.”

And then the sound registered—moans, screams, and shrieks of pain. They rose in volume, tearing at my senses and battered mind.

“No more.”

“Make it stop.”

“Please…”

The crack of a whip, the whirr of cogs, and the wet sound of metal piercing flesh spawned images of torture. My pulse hammered in my throat, fear a lump of ice in my belly.

Figures stepped out of the fog—the silent sisters. The horrific sounds swelled and then cut off as if someone had flipped a switch. The fog pressed in as the sisters surrounded me, circling me.

“What the hell is this place?”

An invisible pressure exerted itself on my body.

Hell no!

My power surged up, hands fizzing in response to whatever they were doing. The tingle intensified as they pushed further, searching for something. Yeah, I didn’t like this.

Darkness whiplashed out from my solar plexus and the hold they had on me snapped.

I staggered back, lip curling as anger flared in my chest. “Take me back. Now.”

She is not of the bloodline.

What the fuck were they on about?

This cannot be possible.

And yet it is.

Which means it will come to pass as she foresaw.

Do you see it? Do you see the residue?

Hush now.

Not now.

The redhead stepped forward.

“There are trials ahead, child.” Her voice filled my head, but her mouth didn’t move. “So many trials. You will be tested, and you must pass if we are to reset the balance.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The balance must be restored. The power that was taken must be returned. It is almost time. You must see him for what he is before you can save him.” Her mouth turned down. “We were wrong, and we pay the price.”

“The price for what?”

“For taking what we should not. For stealing from the well.”

Low moans filled the air. Pained moans that made the hair on my nape stand to attention.

But can you taste it?

Can you feel it?

The redhead closed her eyes.

The connection. We could have it. We could have it, if we keep her.

What the fuck?

The redhead’s eyes snapped open, vibrant like a lush forest dappled in sunlight. “No!”

Her hand shot out to punch me in the chest.

Forgive…

The fog melted and I was back in the domed room with the silent sisters watching me innocently from behind the table as if nothing had happened, as if they hadn’t just yanked me into an alternate plane, talked gibberish, and then punched me in the chest.

“Cora!” Sloane’s arms were around me, her chest to my back. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I shook off the sense of displacement and fixed a glare on the silent sisters. “What was that about?”

Silence greeted us.

“Hello?”

Sloane’s grip on me tightened. “Give us the glamour we came for.”

One of the witches stood and walked toward us with a box. She held it out and Sloane took it.

“The glamour?” Sloane demanded, her tone tight with anger.

The silent sister nodded.

Sloane kept her arm around me and pulled me back with her. “Portal home, please.”

The witch pulled a coin from her pocket and threw it into the air. This time instead of a door a shimmering oval rupture appeared.

Sloane maneuvered me toward it. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

But the silent sisters’ warnings were ringing in my ears. I glanced over my shoulder and locked gazes with the redheaded sister just before Sloane propelled us through the portal.

My blood ran cold at the look in her eyes.

Hunger.

Tear your skin off and eat your insides hunger.