Page 106 of Her Dreadful Will
You have such a pure heart,Achan had told her, always whispering, whispering, with those eyes that glittered and gleamed.May I touch your soul?
Smiling and touching andcorrupting. Drawing her into his chaos, making her believe he wanted to help, when in reality he was only using her for his own success. Spoiling her thesis so he could prove his own.
But the rest of it didn’t make sense. The way Achan looked when he told her of restraints used on witches—used on his own cousin—his anger and bitterness had been real. He didn’t believe in restraining powerful witches, so why make that a part of his dissertation?
“Why?” she said feebly, aloud. “Why would he do this? Why would the Institute allow him to adopt this thesis, and then permit him to live in the same town as me, knowing what he intended to do?”
“There’s precedent for novitiates being pitted against each other during the thesis development process,” Tarek admitted. “It’s rare, but it does happen, typically when there is an unusually high number of candidates for the title of Highwitch. Let me see who gave permission for this.” He opened another menu in the account and typed in a passcode. Soleil waited, gnawing her thumbnail as he scrolled and clicked. “Here we go. Just as I thought. His thesis was approved by his mentor, Highwitch Erlich.” Tarek shook his head. “Erlich is known for his fascination with witches who have powerful or unusual gifts. He’s been reprimanded by the Convocation on several occasions.”
Highwitch Erlich was Soleil’s mentor, too. He’d shown such interest in what she could do—she had thought she was special. His favorite.
He had set her and Achan against each other on purpose, knowing that in the end, after she failed, Soleil would be restrained and supervised by the Convocation for the rest of her life. That, or worse.
Tarek was watching her closely. Soleil’s pain and shock must have shown on her face, because he said, “If it helps, the concept would have been Achan’s idea. Mentors aren’t allowed to suggest thesis topics. Somehow the boy convinced Erlich to approve it.”
“He’s not a boy,” said Soleil. “He’s your age.”
“A young novitiate witch, who knows how to set complex traps? And what about you, with your high radiance levels? Soleil, there’s something bigger going on here.” Tarek laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. “You need to tell me everything, so I can help you.”
“You’ll tell the Convocation,” she whispered. “He’ll get into trouble.”
“No more than he deserves,” said Tarek crisply. “And I can protect you, Soleil, if you tell me what you know. That’s really what’s most important here, isn’t it? Protecting yourself, and defending the integrity of the Institute, and the safety of all witches everywhere? That’s what you want, isn’t it? To protect others against evil. You’ve been tricked and seduced, chickadee. But I’m here now. Your Tarek is here to keep you safe.”
He pulled her closer, and Soleil caved to his warmth and strength, so sure and familiar after Achan’s wild eyes and sharp edges.
“I’ve missed you, you know,” Tarek said softly. “You were always like a little sister to me, but sometimes I wonder if you could have been more.”
Soleil twitched in his arms. “You’re engaged.”
“Engaged, not dead.” There was a smile in his voice. “Open relationships are a thing, you know—triads and such. You could leave this place, come to London with me. You could see more of the world—the real world. Why, I could even introduce you to one of the Witchlords. But first, I have to know that I can trust you to do what’s right. Tell me more about Achan Gilliam. What kind of magic does he know? Have you done magic with him?”
Ribbons of moonlight danced in Soleil’s memory—wind gusting through treetops, energy racing through bare bodies under pale stars. She remembered the suction of the tethers, how she had steadied Achan when he was being torn away, how they had wrought mischievous chaos on the mayor and his wife. But stronger still was the memory of looking into Achan’s eyes and finding a new magic there, a beautiful ache as old as the most ancient of witches.
She knew Achan, more deeply and intimately than she’d ever known anyone, and suddenly she understood why he had left her the other night. He left because of his thesis, because he wouldn’t take her body when she didn’t know the whole truth about him. He’d been a coward, afraid to speak, but he had been honorable too.
More honorable than Tarek was acting.
If she gave in to Tarek, turned Achan in for illegal magic—they wouldn’t just restrain him, not with everything he’d done. Tarek could protect her, perhaps, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t—protect Achan.
Perhaps Achan could protect himself. His power was the greatest she’d heard of, a vast ocean of chaos. Maybe he would be able to escape the enforcers. But how long could he run from them? And what would happen if they ever caught up to him?
“Have you done magic with him?” Tarek repeated.
A vision flashed into her mind—Achan on his knees, his lips parted with pleading and his green eyes wide, a gun barrel pressed to his dark head—
Pop, pop.
Soleil’s entire being revolted. Steel formed, cold and hard, at her core. She flattened her left hand against Tarek’s chest, over his heart. “Yes,” she murmured. “I have done magic with him.”
She sent a burst of thought to her ring of wolverine bone, and the ring activated with a jolt, its energy flowing out and over Tarek. For a second, Soleil feared the mandala might protect him from this too; but the wolverine magic was gritty and voracious, and it dominated any resistance. Tarek froze in place, his jaw locking, eyes startled and wide.
While he was paralyzed, Soleil slipped on La Voisin’s ring and placed her right hand across Tarek’s forehead. The ring sensed her intent and hummed, loud and eager—and suddenly Soleil could see Tarek’s memories flowing through her own head, like an old movie on reels. She could move them forward and backward, zoom in and out of them.
She scrolled to the moment when Tarek had entered Achan’s room and seen the laptop. Firmly she pressed the ring to his forehead, and it greedily absorbed that memory, and everything beyond it.
Without removing her palm from Tarek’s head, Soleil closed the laptop and shoved it into a kitchen cupboard.
Could La Voisin’s ring also put false memories in place, or at least false impressions? It couldn’t hurt to try.
