Page 119 of A Resistance of Witches

Rebecca’s eyes fixed themselves on something far away. “When the police came for my father, I was there. I tried to fight them, to make them stop, but one of the policemen, he punched me, and I blacked out.” She touched the side of her face, remembering. “That day, they were only taking men. They left the rest of us behind.” She took a rattling breath, and a tear fell onto her cheek. “The next time, I wasn’t at home. I was across the street, skulking around after spending all night in a car with some stupid boy I didn’t even like.” She laughed, quick and angry. “I was walking home when I saw the police outside my house. They were taking my mother and sister away.”

She stared up at Henry. She looked as if at any moment she would crack into pieces, shattering into dust and mixing with the spruce needles scattered across the forest floor.

“My mother saw me. They were dragging them away, Noémie was crying, and I was frozen, I didn’t know what to do. But my mother looked up, she looked right at me, and she mouthed something to me.Run.She said, ‘Run.’ And so, I did.”

“You were right to do it,” Henry said. “They would have taken you away too.”

Rebecca hung her head. “We would have been together.”

Henry looked around again, hoping for one last appearance from the gray woman, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“That morning after we got back from Auvergne,” Rebecca said, “I was going to run then too. Even after I touched the book, even though I knew—” she stopped, her eyes gone glassy. “Even though I knew what it was. I was going to run as far and as fast as I possibly could. I didn’t care what happened after that.”

“But you didn’t,” Henry said. “You stayed.”

Rebecca shook her head. She took a labored breath.

“I don’t want to go back in there. I don’t want to go back, but Lydia is in there withthem, and with thatthing, whatever is inside that evil fucking book, and I can’t just…I can’t…” Something snapped into place behind her eyes. “We can’t leave her.”

Henry looked into Rebecca’s face and saw a liquid intensity there that might easily have been mistaken for madness.

“I know.”

Rebecca looked as if she were about to say something else, but then her expression changed. “Do you smell that?”

Henry sniffed. One second the air was perfumed with the scent of spruce trees, and dirt, and snow. The next, he was struck with the familiar, metallic smell of ozone.

“Run,” he said.

•••

Lydia’s footsteps echoedoff the marble floor and cavernous ceilings as she entered the ceremonial chamber. Tall, arched glass windows faced west, glowing with dying sunlight. An enormous fireplace burned at one end of the chamber, the mantel intricately carved with wolvesand eagles. Lydia looked up and saw that the domed ceiling had been painted a deep royal blue, smattered with constellations in gold leaf. All around her, black-clad witches stood in the half-light, waiting. TheGrimorium Bellumgave off a heat like a feverish child in her arms.

Lydia felt faint. Her initiation had always been part of the plan, an unavoidable evil, but now that it was here, she wanted nothing more than to run from this place as fast as she could. A witch’s commitment to her coven was sacred, a lifelong vow of sisterhood, unbreakable. The thought of vowing herself to the Reich, even if only for show, made her want to scrub her skin with lye.

She looked up and saw Sybil watching her. She took a steadying breath, and on that breath formed a silent prayer.

Great Mother, forgive me for what I am about to do.

•••

They crashed throughthe undergrowth, golden light strobing through the trees as they ran. Rebecca could feel Henry beside her, hear his labored breathing as they sprinted blindly through the trees hand in hand. Her heart felt like a balloon in her chest, ready to burst. Off to her left Rebecca saw a flash of silver-blond hair. She could hear stony laughter, first behind her, then to her left, then her right.

Henry pulled up short, dragging her down with him behind a rotten log. Rebecca could see the whites of his eyes in the dim light, the drops of sweat standing on his brow. He held a shaking finger to his lips. Rebecca pressed both hands over her mouth. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, so loud she was certain the witch would hear.

From out of the darkness, Rebecca heard Ursula sigh.

“Hiding won’t save you, Liebchen.” Her voice seemed to move through the darkness, circling them, her shape appearing and disappearing through the trees. “You must know this already.”

Rebecca stared at Henry. She wanted to run, but he held her tight.

“You have taken something precious from me, girl.” The witch’s voice seemed to be moving ever closer to their hiding place. “You murdered my Margot. Mysister. I will make you suffer for that.”

Henry tugged on Rebecca’s sleeve and pointed over his shoulder toward a steep, rocky drop-off where a wide mountain stream gurgled below. They stayed low as they scrambled down the hill, hanging on to roots and stones as they went.

“You will die last,” Ursula called, and Rebecca knew the words were meant for her. “The Negro I’ll kill first. Then the witch. I will flay them alive, and you can listen to their screams as they beg for the release of death. And then I will save the very worst for you.”

•••

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