Page 67 of Her Blood Revenge

She will. Soon enough.

‘Thalia is gone,’ I tell her. ‘Her cell door was open, and she’s gone. Dorian’s looking for her now. Shaw tasted her blood so he’ll know when she falls asleep, and he can dream walk. Scare her back or something.’

She takes a deep breath and folds her arms across her chest. ‘She could tell the coven what I did. That Neve is back.’

‘She won’t. Never mind the fact she has no tongue, so she can’t speak; she knows that telling on you also tells on her coven and Cole. She won’t risk either. Besides. We’ll get her back.’

Even now, after everything Thalia did to her, she feels guilty for her suffering. Thalia screwed her fiancé. Betrayed her. Lied to her and turned her back on her when she needed her. And still, Pix cares.

‘Maybe we just let her go,’ she contemplates. ‘She’s suffered enough.’

‘Unsure that’s wise.’

‘You just said she wouldn’t talk.’

What can I say? I want her dead because she’s a threat. Yes. But also, she deserves to die for what she did to Pix.

I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off.

‘Let her go. I think you may find Leo is gone as well. They hated eachother too much for it not to turn into something. Trust me.’ She looks up at me with a sly smile. ‘We’re on borrowed time as it is. We need to go. The castle is all but abandoned. We’re alone here, and they will come back to finish what they started.’

Her shoulders slump as she looks once more at the sky.

‘My coven will be celebrating Athir in two days. I’ll be sad to miss it.’

‘You enjoy that crap?’

‘I do,’ she smiles. ‘Everyone out in the fields barefoot. Music and food everywhere. Games and stories by firelight. Dancing.’

‘The earth covens dance?’

‘Only twice a year,’ she laughs. ‘The spring and the winter. Welcoming Athir for the spring and then bidding him goodnight for the winter. The earth hums even when the fire hasn’t freed your magic, so I bet it feels fantastic when you have access. It’s a great boost for the coven’s magic.’

Athir, their God. Others call him The Green Man. The covens each have their own deity to worship. Legend is that each deity wrote the grimoires and passed them onto the covens for their most powerful to read from it.

If only they knew the truth. A story for another time, I think. I’m not in the mood to ruin her mood any further.

‘I shall miss it,’ she adds. ‘It was a lot of fun.’

‘We can do our own,’ I offer. ‘Some music. Some wine. Just the four of us barefoot. We won’t summon any power for you, but it could be a laugh.’

‘Perhaps,’ she replieshalf-heartedly.

A sharp whistle comes from the treeline, and we see Shaw returning to the castle after walking the soldiers back through the boundary.

He has something large tucked under his arm.

Shaw gestures for us to follow him back inside.

‘He looks mad,’ she whispers.

‘Let’s go see why.’

Chapter twelve

The Necromancer

‘What is that?’ I ask, looking at the long white gown shaw hangs over the back of the bedroom door.

---