Page 2 of Wicked Chains
"I know what they are,” Abigail said. "But they hold the power now. The church, the courts, the town, this country, they control it all. Even if your entire coven had fought, you would have lost."
"So you decided not even to give us the chance." Sebastian's eyes held more than anger now. "We trusted you, Abigail. I trusted you."
"And I'm sorry for that. Truly. But my daughters."
"Will live to see their children's children enslaved." Sebastian cut her off. "And the Crescent Moon Coven will grow stronger with each generation they drain. Did you think of that?"
In the distance, the church bell tolled.
"It's done," Abigail said. "Whatever you think of my choice, it's made. The contract is binding."
"So is my word." Sebastian's voice was soft now, which somehow made it more terrifying. "I swear to you, Abigail Smith, on the blood you've helped spill tonight, on the ashes of my coven, that your betrayal will not stand eternal. The Blood Moon Coven will rise again."
The third bell tolled. The witching hour.
"We will survive. We will rebuild." His green eyes bored into hers. "And one day, no matter how many centuries it takes, wewill reclaim what is ours. Your bloodline's power was promised to us, not to the unholy corruption of the Crescent Moon."
Sebastian walked away, his form blending with the dark of the night, leaving Abigail standing alone in the clearing.
His last words drifted back to her from the shadows. "One day, a witch will be born with the power to undo what you've done today. And the Blood Moon Coven will be waiting."
One
Rose
I jerk awake, my heart pounding as if I’ve been shoved off a cliff. My chest feels too tight, and it seizes up as I gulp in air so fast that it hurts, then my eyes snap open to see three blurry shapes, too close, looming over me. There’s a sticky blackness clinging to my brain, and under it all, a repeating memory of a sound I will never forget. Abigail’s last breath, the sound she made when the blade slid into her chest.
"She's awake," someone says, the voice far away and muffled like I'm underwater.
I squeeze my eyes shut and then open them again, trying to force my vision to focus. The blurry people above me turn into three distinct faces: Soren's black eyes flashing with silver, Drake's ghostly features, and Lucien's aristocratic face carefully blank, though his crimson eyes won’t look away from mine.
"Rose." Lucien's hard fingers circle my wrist. "Can you hear me?"
"Unfortunately," I croak, my throat dusty like I’ve been without water for days.
He drops my wrist. "Her charming personality appears intact."
I try to sit up and immediately regret it. The room spins like a carnival ride, and my stomach lurches. "Whoa. Bad idea."
Drake hovers closer, not quite touching me. "You've been through an ordeal."
It feels like it has been just seconds between watching that man plunge his dagger into Abigail's chest and waking up here. Here, which is right back where I was. I glance around, recognizing the dirty corners and cobwebs of the fourth floor. I’m no longer in the windowless chamber suspended in time, where I'd just watched my ancestor die.
“What happened?” Soren’s voice lacked its usual mocking tone.
How do I even begin to explain it all?
The lantern. Abigail. The Accord.
"I saw her," I whisper, struggling to organize the bits and pieces of memory swirling in my head. "My ancestor. Abigail Smith."
"What are you talking about?" Lucien's voice is sharp.
"I time-jumped, or dimension-jumped. I don't know exactly." I press my hands against my eyes, trying to alleviate the headache I can feel starting. "I was in this room with Abigail. She told me about the Accord, how it's bound toher.Her flesh, breath, and soul."
“The original blood contract is a person? That's not possible,” Lucien says, but there's uncertainty in his eyes.
"Yeah, well, neither is half the shit that's happened today, but here we are." I push myself up again, slower this time, and Drake's hands move to steady me.
