Page 93 of Summer of Sacrifice

She dumped the crushed tourmaline and bone into the cauldron and poured in a measure of moon water. Next, she popped the cork from the vile of weasel blood. Her hands shook as she poured it into the cauldron, whispering a spell for heat since she did not have a fire. Immediately, the blood, water, bone, and tourmaline began to sizzle at the bottom of the small cauldron, the smell acrid. Quickly, she added all the other ingredients, summoning her favourite wooden spoon from her home to stir.

“Goddess,” she breathed, a prayer and a plea, as she poured the potion into a vial.

“S’en aller.”

The cauldron, spoon, and leftover ingredients all disappeared along with the basket.

Bile pushed at the back of her throat again, her stomach clenching as she rose and walked back toward Whitehall and into the kitchen to wash her hands. Blood and soil filled the basin, and she dumped it outside in a bush. Blinking back tears, she found a bottle of deep red wine and two glasses. They clinked together as she picked them up, a sound she’d always associated with happiness. Joy. Pleasant times.

Willing herself to remain calm, unassuming, she left the house and strode through the night toward the châlet. To Cal.

He was snoring softly when she walked in, and she debated leaving. Defying the Grimoire. Facing her Sanction.

But the Sisters’ Sanctions were meant to take away what they loved the most. And now, that was Cal.

“It’s just a puzzle,” she whispered to herself, standing there in the dark of his châlet, wine, potion, and glasses in her hands. Everything was just a puzzle.

If her Sanction would be to take Cal from her, then the potion couldn’t cause the same fate. It was naïve logic. But it was the only chance she had.

Suppressing the nausea, Seleste quietly set down her items on the table and stepped out of all of her clothing. She was glad she’d agreed to do so, for there was dirt on her skirts and a few drops of blood she didn’t have the mental wherewithal to explain away at the moment.

The sensation of her bare feet on worn floorboards was familiar. Grounding. She took a deep breath. Soon, she would be in Cal’s arms and all would be well.

It had to be.

As quietly as possible, she uncorked the wine and the vial of potion, pouring them both a glass. In Cal’s, she emptied the contents of the vial. Taking yet another steadying breath, she approached Cal’s sleeping form and set the glasses next to his bed, careful to remember which was his. She bent to brush a kiss against his lips, pushing away an onslaught of tears.

“Cal,” she whispered, smiling sadly as he stirred at the sound of her voice. “Darling, wake up.”

He blinked up at her blearily, his face fuzzled by the darkness in the châlet. She watched as his gaze slid down her naked body. “Mm,” he groaned, sitting up. “You certainly deliver on your promises.”

Seleste smiled, hoping the darkness would hide that it didn’t reach her eyes, and handed him his glass of wine. “Drink up, my lord. There will be no sleep until dawn.”

He eyed her hungrily as he sipped his wine and tried to hand it back to her.

“No, no,” she clucked. “All of it.”

Placing the rim of the glass back to his lips, she gently touched the bottom, tipping it slowly until he had no choice but to down the rest in two gulps. Cal made a face when it was gone. “That tasted quite strange,” he murmured, as he set his glass down on the nightstand.

But Seleste was already slipping into the sheets next to him, sending her magic to clean the glass of any remnants of potion. “Ah, then taste me instead,” she hummed against his lips.

The watery, grey light of dawn was coming in through the windows when Seleste awoke. Bliss filled her to the brim as she felt Cal asleep next to her, barely concealed in a mess of sheets. She kissed him on the cheek and padded across the châlet to where her clothes were discarded, not quite remembering her arrival at his little oasis.

Alas, the girls would be breaking their fast soon and it would be another day filled with lessons. They were scheduled to begin a small lesson in physical self-defence.

There was little time to be wasted, as she had to return to her room, get herself cleaned up, and don a plain dress, unlike the tangerine one lying at her feet. With a peaceful sigh, she slipped into her underthings and stepped into her dress. As she pulled it up over her arms, she noticed how dirty the skirts were. Filthy. And there were a few dots of a rust-coloured stain. She pulled the skirts up to better inspect it. Blood?

Everything came crashing back into her memory, sleep and bliss pushed aside in an instant.

“Oh, Goddess.” What had she done?

Seleste bent over double, dry-heaving until she vomited up bile all over her sodden skirts.

Chapter

Seventeen

AGATHA

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