Page 24 of Heart of a Witch
“It wasn’t too expensive, so it’ll be nothing like our house.” A lump formed in my throat. I supposed our home was no longer ours. The king and queen would take it for themselves, declaring us fugitives or accomplices on the run and, worse, witches. Our beautiful family mansion and shop were forever gone. Hatred seared through my veins, bubbling a rage under the surface that only revenge could sedate.
Alex sighed. “I miss home. I miss Mama and…” She trailed off.
I didn’t respond. What could I say? I missed our mother too? I didn’t. It was the truth, and as much as I wish it weren’t, I couldn’t pretend. Her being gone took away the guilt I felt whenever I saw her.
A brisk gust of wind caught a dead, red leaf, swirling it toward us. Batting it out the way, I looked up at the low-hanging branches of the maple trees lining the street we’d veered down, leading away from the shops. “I guess the town is aptly named.”
“It’s kind of pretty in this part. Ember would have loved it here.”
Her face floated into my mind, along with memories of us jumping in piles of leaves and running after each other among the trees in the forest with sticks, pretending they were swords. I felt the warmth drain from my face as the memory slipped away, forever gone. Just like her.
Alex’s fingers squeezed my arm as I bent over. “Tori?”
I swallowed thickly, steadying myself. “I’m fine. Let’s hurry before night comes.”
She rubbed the back of her neck, then rolled her head around, rolling her shoulders back. I did the same, finding relief in the stretching of my tense muscles. It had been a six-hour carriage ride from Dawnridge. They had these things called automobiles in Istinia, but Salvius was always a step behind with technology. According to our late cousin, automobiles could take us from place to place five times faster than a carriage.
A small, red-bricked house came into view as we turned the corner. Its faded black door was slightly ajar, and the wind whistled through the tall grass in the front yard.
She frowned. “Is this it?”
I looked at the number forty-nine on the door. “It appears so.”
“How did Cas get this?”
“Through one of the connections he trusts,” I explained, realizing I had been wrong before. We hadn’t included her in every detail of what we’d set up before leaving Dawnridge. “Let’s get inside. It’s getting cold.”
She rubbed her bare arms, but neither of us moved, gazing at the house. A sickly dread crept over me as I took in the broken window on the side of the house, and its ivy-strangled black gate. It was our new home. I hadn’t let it truly sink in, that I was leaving my old life behind for good.
***
I left the house after covering the hole in the window and unpacking our things into the old dressers and wardrobes. Alex took a nap on the sofa, and I hurried back into town before everything closed. We needed fresh linens for the beds and a few other things. Holding the makeshift list Alex had helped me write, I hugged my black jacket around myself. The fresh autumn chill tingled my fingertips and lips. Avoiding the disapproving looks from the locals as I walked, I realized with unsettling awareness that we may have to dress like them if we had any chance of fitting in.
Emberly would have done well here. She always did know how to blend in when needed, unlike me, or even Alex. Cas would have an easier time adopting his alias, Ambrose Weathermore from Dawnridge. I would remain Victoria, and Alex would want to take our mother’s middle name, Evangeline, or Eva for short. We would be known as an orphaned family who’d inherited our family fortune and moved to start a new business. Cas, or Ambrose as he would be called, would be taking care of us, his younger sisters, until we married. Once he opened his apothecary, Alex and I would work there. I’d take care of the business side as I had back home, and Alex would help customers while Cas made the mixtures and treated patients.
I glanced back when I reached a road that stretched to a hill, then out to a forest. Expensive, grand houses lined the road. Had I taken a wrong turn? I reached for my map, then swore under my breath. I’d left it on the dresser. Fuck. I turned back, then paused.
My gaze climbed a four-story mansion. I recognized the name edged onto the sign: Shaw Family Residence. It was where the hunter lived. I held my breath, regaining my composure as I reminded myself that Damian Shaw was, in fact, not here and out still hunting—us.
I ducked behind a wall when I saw him. A man stepped out through the main gates and ran his hand through his ash-blond hair, then tugged the sleeves of his blazer. He looked like the hunter but younger, without the scars. I looked at his impeccable navy suit. He carried himself with an air of regality reserved for those at the palace in Dawnridge, but he wasn’t royalty.
He was a Shaw.
I supposed in this town they might have been the same thing. He strutted down the road, hands in his pockets, so I did what any sane person would do in my situation. I followed him.
Shops were closing by the time I’d walked through town, but I didn’t care. Dismissing my list for tomorrow, I shoved it into my pocket, focusing my eyes on the back of the man walking ahead of me. I couldn’t get over how much he looked like Damian, so I assumed he must be his son, but I needed confirmation. I caught my breath when we turned a corner. I wondered why he hadn’t taken a carriage.
The blond man slipped inside a black building in some seedy alleyway; above it, a sign swung. The Black Horse. I smoothed the black lace of my dress, took off my jacket, and ran my nails through my hair, taming the flyaway strands.
“Evening,” I said when I reached the guarded door.
“Name?” the bigger of the security guards asked.
“Victoria.”
“Common name, that one. What’s your last name, miss?”
“Weathermore.” I enunciated it clearly, playing the part of a woman in high society.
