Page 129 of Into the Dark, We Go
The witch’s eerily calm, almost cheerful countenance made me seethe. It was like nothing had happened. She knew everything, and yet she’d chosen to stay on the sidelines, sending us off to die for her own hidden motives.
She raised a perfectly arched brow, her mouth curling into a subtle, knowing smile. Somehow, she already knew it was over.
"Where’s the other half of your cheerful quartet?" she asked.
"Here. For all your troubles. Now, we’re even." Nick ignored her question, skipping the small talk, and handed her a folded piece of paper with the symbol he’d copied from my back. The hand-drawn replica wasn’t perfect, but it closely resembled the original—and the one seared into my skin—minus the lacerations.
She took it, scanned the page, and looked at us with a flicker of disappointment.
"That’s it? Ain’t exactly what I was hoping for."
Nick gave a slight, firm shake of his head. "It’s what you get. And it’s already quite a lot."
"So, you found it?" she asked, folding her arms, her tone flat and unsurprised. "Where’s it at?"
"It’s safe," Nick replied. "And it’s staying that way. No harm will come from it."
"Books don’t cause harm," Mathilda said, eyes narrowing. "People do."
And that was the only thing I could agree with her on. Whether their deity was real or not, it didn’t matter. People were the ones who orchestrated violence.
"Tell us why they were doing it. Why did they need the ritual? And what did they need the grimoire for?" Nick asked.
"They need a ritual to get what they’re after. And that grimoire—my guess is, it’s ‘cause it ain’t quite right," Mathilda gave me a rueful smile, "and they need the book to tweak it some more. Or to do something else."
"And he wouldn’t let you in on the game? Is that why you wanted him gone? Is that why you want the grimoire now?" I asked, remembering Robert’s words, how women couldn’t be trusted with magic.
The irony of it. Taking witchcraft away from women.
Mathilda’s arms tightened around her body. "I wanted it stopped, period. No amount of money or power’s worth killin’ people for. And what makes you think you’re entitled to that grimoire? You think you can handle it better than me?"
The last words were addressed to Nick.
"Yes," he said in a way that left no room for argument.
She went quiet, studying him, as if deciding whether to push back or let it go. Then she waved her hand dismissively, as if saying,To hell with you.If you get yourself killed because of it, it won’t be my fault.
She turned to me, her gaze lingering on my battered face. "You look like death, girl."
"Thanks to you," I shot back, no longer bothering to hide my resentment.
The witch chuckled, low and throaty. "You best be grateful. If it wasn’t for me, this’d still be draggin’ on, and you’d be in a whole lot worse shape."
"Why? Can you tell us anything at all?"
Mathilda folded her arms tightly. "That’s all I know. They figured out how to summon the deity, tradin’ favors for lives. And that’s all I’m tellin’ you. Leave it be."
"Do we need to worry about the rest of the coven?" Nick asked.
She shook her head. "They’re probably hidin’, shakin’ in their boots. I’ll handle them if they ever work up the nerve to show their faces."
I wondered what it was about Robert she couldn’t handle when she wasn’t afraid of six men. Either way, I didn’t care. If they came for her, that was her problem. What mattered was that they didn’t come for us.
"What about Robert’s clients?"
Mathilda chewed her lip. "Don’t know who they are. And best you be careful, too. Don’t go digging too deep."
I interjected, "You almost got me killed.Nowyou’re telling us to be careful?"
