There it was. The truth. Finally. “So you’re a spy. Watch what I say and do, and report back.
But why me? Why not one of the others? What made me so special?”
“You told me once that all you had was each other,” Ash said as she moved toward my window. As she passed my bed, my heart froze in panic, but she passed by without noticing the hidden tome between my sheets. Most kids hide Playboys between their mattresses. Not me.
“But it’s more than that,” she continued. “All you have is them, and all they have is you. You’re the one they listen to, the one that keeps order as best you can. All the files say it: if you want to learn about the children of Moonset, you go to Justin.”
“So you were spying on me.” Hearing it all laid out so clinically didn’t make me feel any better.
It made me sick to my stomach, thinking about the hours people must have put into assessing us, speculating about our lives.
“At first,” she admitted. “Justin, I wasn’t lying when I said I like you. You’re not what I expected. But it’s not that easy to tell Robert Cooper that you’re giving up on the job he gave you. He was the one that recruited me into the Witchers in the first place—I mean, for now it’s just training but after I graduate—”
I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. She was so calm! “Do you get how messed up this is? I was starting to trust you! Do you have any idea how many people I actually confide in like that?” It was a short list. Four names.
Ash looked up at me, and met my eyes. “I know,” she said. “I studied your file. You asked me if it was all an act earlier. I never lied to you, not really. They picked me because I fit the profile of what they thought you’d like.”
They know me pretty well. The thought crossed my mind unbidden, and only served to make me more angry. This was a game to all of them. The Congress thought they could throw us here, dangle us in front of the warlock, and play with our lives. Was this what they did to our parents? Were they just as manipulative back then? Because if the answer was yes, I could see why my parents started a rebellion.
“I think you should go,” I said, trying desperately to stay calm and keep my voice level. If I started screaming at Ash, I might lose control again. And this time, I wouldn’t have the excuse of some teacher working magic against me as a defense.
“Justin, that’s not the only reason I’m here. You need to be careful. Cooper wants you all handed to the warlock on a silver platter. He had me watching you to see how you’d react. How long it would take before the warlock either took you out—or recruited you to his side. He wants the warlock dead, and he’s just hoping the five of you will be collateral damage.”
The spellbook. My eyes moved towards the bed, and I had to physically force myself to look up at the ceiling. Cullen Bridger was taunting us. He had been all along.
“The Congress is split, though. Illana wants the warlock caught, but she’s not willing to sacrifice you and the others.”
“Illana hates us almost as much as everyone else does. She’s just too classy not to say it to our faces,” I said.
“I don’t think it’s like that. Honestly, I think she wants to keep you guys safe. That’s why she moved here. Why she’s been so involved. But you haven’t exactly made it easy.”
The idea that I hadn’t made life easy for the sixty-something battle-hardened woman almost made me smile.
She walked over towards me, her hands reaching out and then pulling back before she actually touched me. She looked almost scared. “I know you can’t trust me anymore, and I get it. I’m sorry I lied to you, but I’m not sorry I got to know you. People could have gotten really hurt tonight. You stopped them. I won’t ever forget that.”
“We stopped them,” I muttered.
“Yeah,” she said, like I said something incredibly sweet, “we did.”
“You probably could have taken them on by yourself,” I said, unable to help myself.
Bitterness clouded my words. “The only reason I was any help at all was because you taught me the spell. I mean, if Bailey and I hadn’t been there … ” I trailed off suddenly. I had been about to say that Ash wasn’t the only witch in that theater.
“What is it?”
I thought back to the lobby after the attack. Looking for something I couldn’t place. Now I remembered what that was. “Have you heard from Luca? He got out okay, right?” I hadn’t thought about him at the time, but in hindsight, I had to wonder. Mal would probably be upset if the only living relative he had died accidentally and no one noticed.
She looked at me in surprise. “He must have slipped out before the attack. Probably got scared when he saw all the Santas on parade.”
“But you saw him?”
“I mean, for a minute,” she said, eyes distant. “After it was all over, he was there with us when the cleanup crew was finally leaving. Why?”
I shook my head. “I just wanted to make sure.” I cleared my throat. “You should probably go.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty tired,” she said, shifting her weight and biting the corner of her lip. “I meant what I said. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” I said, tersely, moving to the door and pulling it open. “I heard.”
Sleep never came. I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling. With every minute that passed, I imagined I could feel the weight of the spellbook up against the mattress more and more, until it was an unavoidable lump under my leg. No matter how much I shifted, or how I rearranged myself, I could still feel the book underneath me.
After about an hour of tossing and turning, I gave up. The spellbook was almost like a siren’s song, calling me to read it. It was the middle of the night. No one was awake. But just to be sure I locked my door and moved my desk chair underneath the knob, creating a barrier if anyone tried forcing their way in.
I turned on all the lights. I don’t know why, but it made me feel better. Then I pulled the book out from between the mattresses, and set it on my lap. This was it. I could just take a little peek. Just enough to see how bad the contents were. If Sherrod was the monster I expected, I’d stop right there.
I flipped to a random page.
There is something about her, a light in her eyes that only I see.
What? I leaned closer, as if I could learn more of the book through osmosis. I held my finger on that page and continued flipping through. Page after page was lined with shorthand—spells and their explanations, all written in a tight, clear hand. And then there was the English—
thoughts and anecdotes of people I didn’t know and stories I’d never heard.
It really was a journal.
Emily likes to be chased—all chicks do. She spellcasts with such finesse—so unlike Diana.
One could end a drought with just enough rain, the other would unleash a hurricane to show off her power. So vastly different—they should hate each other on sight, but there is some sort of … understanding between them. I do NOT understand women.
I almost dropped the book. He was writing about my mother. And … Jenna’s. The fact that he called them “chicks” was too unbelievable to even process, so I pretended I hadn’t seen it.
I’d never understood how either woman continued to stand by him, knowing that he’d gotten both of them pregnant—one his wife, one his mistress.
Yet they’d both stayed with him, for the sake of their Coven and all their plans. Their wars.
This is your chance to find out what made him tick. The thought didn’t ease my conscience.