Page 28 of Soul of a Witch

“So it would seem. You had only just been born when he told me this, but he claimed he had been searching for you. He had spent centuries on Earth, waiting for his vision to manifest. So when I gave him my name, it was as if fate had finally begun to align. I told him of the power I knew you would have. I told him that someday, you would come to a crossroads and have to make a choice. To submit, to flee, or to fight. There is a path you can choose that will lead you to the end of all this. All the pain and misery caused by that unnatural deity’s presence in the world can be ended, Everly. And you are the one who can do it.”

“This must be a dream,” I whispered, leaning back in my chair. “It has to be.”

“A dream, a nightmare, or reality. Regardless, you must make a choice. You can try to hide here but you will not be safe. Callum will try to protect you, but in the end, will be overcome. You can go back to your father, pretend this all was indeed a dream. You can carry on your life as he dictates, enslaved to his will, and eventually, the will of his God. Or you can choose to fight back. You can embrace your power. You can kill a God.”

“Kill a God…it’s truly possible…”

“Oh yes. It will not be easy and we have very little time, but I know we can awaken your power. It’s practically bursting at the seams already. I would be careful of any more spontaneous teleportation, if I were you. They can sneak up on you when your magic has been left stagnant for so long.”

If this was a dream, then I was already in too deep. I couldn’t turn away from this.

I sat up straighter in my seat. “Tell me what I have to do.”

10

Everly

With the radio tucked under my arm, I followed Callum as he led me to the library.

Trailing behind him, I took the opportunity to observe him more closely. His marble-like skin wasn’t entirely perfect; he had scars all over, most of them very small but some were larger, puckered and discolored. There were a couple that looked like puncture wounds, as if he’d been stabbed.

He’d known my name centuries before I was even a thought. Over all those years, he’d been searching for me. Waiting for me.

“Blessed Hygieia, this house needs cleaning!” Grandma exclaimed. “The state of it! The dust! The first thing we’re teaching you is some proper tidiness spells. Can’t have you living in such squalor.”

Callum stopped before a set of doors, surrounded by an elaborately carved wooden frame. “This is it. The Grand Library of House Laverne.”

He snapped his fingers, and the doors swung open.

My jaw practically hit the ground as I walked inside. Three floors rose above me, sheltered beneath an arched ceiling covered in a mural of the forest’s flora and fauna. Shelves covered every floor, labeled with small golden plaques to denote how the books were sorted. Sconces lined the walls, flames flickering behind frosted glass, bathing the books in warm light.

“The witches of House Laverne were always incredibly studious,” Grandma said. “Our kin and companions likely would have devoted all their time to the discovery of deeper knowledge if it hadn’t been for the Deep One stirring up bullshit.”

Laughing at her expletives, I stopped to stare at a shelf of ancient leather-bound books. As delicately as I could, I pulled one large volume from the shelf and flipped it open. Neat lines of elegant handwritten text covered the pages.

“Why was this place abandoned?” I said. “Why would anyone ever want to leave?’

“The Deep One’s growing power made staying here too dangerous. Many of our young witches chose to leave, believing it would be safer to put distance between themselves and the coven, rather than fight to keep the God contained.” Grandma sighed heavily. “Your mother was one such witch. She left and never looked back. I fear I may have driven her to it. Having a diviner for a mother was not easy for her. I tried too hard to control her, to change the course of her fate. The coven was dying and she was a bright, talented young witch. She did not want to spend her life hiding in a forest.”

As I made my way up a spiral stairway to the third floor, a strange object caught my eye. From a distance, it appeared like a large mechanical wardrobe. Numerous gears and springs turned and pumped all over its surface, and it ticked as if a thousand clocks were contained inside, all keeping a different time. It was at least ten feet tall, set into the wall, composed of brass and iron. It had two doors, but they were sealed, with no handles or keyholes in sight.

“This is the heart of the library, the vault,” Grandma said. “Grand Mistress Sybil built this to protect our most precious knowledge. All of her research into the gods is contained within. Not even a ghost like me can penetrate its magical barriers.”

“How does it open?” Cautiously, I brushed my fingers over the bronze surface, and it was cold to the touch. “There are no keyholes.”

“Sybil’s grimoire is the key. It was lost after her death, and taken by the Libiri. I believe your father currently carries it.”

Despair rushed through me. No wonder my father guarded that grimoire so carefully. “Then we can’t get in. Mama always said grimoires were impossible to steal.”

“That isn’t technically true, although they are certainlydifficultto steal. A grimoire cannot be stolen from the one who carries it by force or deceit. But grimoires are tied to the family they came from. All claims of ownership are trumped by the fact that you are a Laverne witch, and that book has always belonged to us. You’ll be able to steal it, if you can find a way to do so safely.”

My father treated the grimoire like it was the most precious thing he owned. He never allowed anyone else to hold it, even touch it.

“He sometimes locks it in a drawer,” I said, my hands shaking as I contemplated what I had to do. “Or in his briefcase.”

“You’ll find your opportunity,” Grandma said. “You’re a clever young woman. Kent underestimates you, and you can use that to your advantage.”

But I barely heard her. The wraiths in the halls and the beasts lurking in the woods — those didn’t scare me as much as my father did. They didn’t scare me as much as leaving here and feeling the God’s eyes on me again, poking around in my head, probing for weakness.

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