Page 101 of A Resistance of Witches

“Are you ready?” Fiona asked. Her tea sat in front of her, untouched.

Lydia nodded and lifted the shield stone from around her neck, feeling the magic surge in her veins as she placed it on the table. She took a moment to center herself, then set her focus, letting her limbs grow heavy as Evelyn’s kitchen seemed to grow dimmer around her. She felt the sudden sensation of falling, felt herself sink into the floor, and then—

Twenty-Eight

Henry.Henry’s face, his dark skin reflecting the sunset in shades of copper and pink. His jaw was darkened with stubble, and he was thinner than the last time she’d seen him. He came into focus, and Lydia saw his eyes lock onto hers as his mouth fell open. She wanted to ask if he was all right, if he was safe, but she was having trouble finding her voice. In the end, it was Rebecca who spoke first.

“Putain de merde. Lydia.”

They were in a hayloft, dying light streaming in as the sun dipped low to touch the horizon. Rebecca was standing, dressed in trousers and a man’s olive-green coat. Henry sat with his back against the wall, a canvas pack clutched to his chest. Lydia thought they both looked hungry and cold.

Henry didn’t look happy to see her. On the contrary, he looked horrified, grief-stricken. Lydia couldn’t understand why he was looking ather that way. She wanted to ask, but then Rebecca knelt by his side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s all right, Henry. I see her too. She’s not dead. She’s all right.”

It was like watching a spell lift. Henry’s gaze cleared, and a broken smile found his lips, although the haunted quality in his eyes remained.

“Are you safe?” he asked.

She hesitated before answering, unsure what to make of the anguish she’d seen flash across Henry’s face. “I’m fine. I’m coming to you. Do you have the book?”

“We have it,” Rebecca said.

They told her they were hiding on a dairy farm a day’s walk south from the château. They’d been sleeping in the hayloft, staying out of sight. They were cold and scared, but safe.

“I’m coming,” Lydia said. Rebecca grinned in response, while Henry hung his head in relief.

She closed her eyes. One moment she could smell snow, and hay, and animals. The next she smelled tea, and beeswax, and then she was home.

“I found them.” She repeated the location to Fiona, then turned to her mother. “Mum—”

“I’ll be right behind you. Go.”

Fiona took Lydia firmly by the hand. The rest happened in an instant. Lydia felt dizzy and smelled something electric, like the air after a thunderstorm. The room dropped away, and she felt the nauseating sensation of being flung through space.

She gasped, and the air that filled her lungs was icy.

“Come on. Up you get,” she heard Fiona say.

She was on her hands and knees in a field. Frost covered the ground, and spiky bits of plant matter stuck up through the frozen earth, stabbing into her flesh. The sky was overcast, the sun falling below thehorizon, drowning in a final splashy show of pink and gold. Off in the distance stood an old gray barn.

Lydia staggered to her feet, the cold air bracing in her lungs. She forced herself to walk, wobbling like a new calf over the uneven ground. She’d never been much for traveling. Before she’d gone a few yards, she saw a narrow figure emerge from the barn, ropes of dark hair whipping in the wind.

Rebecca.

“We thought you were dead.” She wore a crooked smile, and Lydia thought that Rebecca looked almost pleased to see her.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Hiding had made Rebecca even harder around the edges, sharp as flint from too much fear and not enough food. But there was something else, too—something in the way she kept glancing back toward the barn.

“It’s Henry, isn’t it?” Lydia asked.

Rebecca nodded.

“What’s happened? When I saw him, he looked so…different.”

Rebecca seemed unsure how to answer. “I should probably let him explain.”

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