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Chapter 8
(Alex)
So Draven wasn’t lying. I’d had my doubts about the Lord of the Afterlife telling the truth. Yet, here it was my mother’s gravestone.
I left the witch, Amelia, back at the iron-barred entrance, wanting to do this alone. The graveyard was secured by a loop of trees, the leaves stained pink and orange. Her gravestone was plain, only the initials A.A. No mentioning of her being a mother, no death date. If I’d just been passing through, I never would have given the stone a second glance.
Her journals said that she worried that my father was going to kill her because she knew things she wasn’t supposed to know. She also worried he’d find out her secret. She’d wrote that if all else failed, she’d give her soul to the Afterlife, so she could one day reunite with her son and put a stop to my father’s evil plan.
She’d known everything. And then she’d died.
I touched the rough headstone, wondering how it happened. Where was she when she breathed her last breath? If I squinted really hard, I could spot the hill that hid the Keepers castle. Anger raged in me as I stormed across the graveyard, kicking up leaves and dust. The wind howled with my anger and I knocked my fist into a tree trunk over and over again, until my knuckles bled.
“Dammit!” I kicked the tree and some of my toes crunched. I rested my head against the trunk, breathing in and out. “Come on. Get it together,” I muttered, trying to calm down.
Leaves surrounded me as I pushed away from the tree and finished the walk in silence.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Amelia asked as I came barging up to the gate.
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I stopped just short of her. “I need you to take me somewhere else.” The witch’s eyes narrowed. “Nuh uh. Not until you take me to the witch who can remove the mark.”
“Look,” I said with zero tolerance. “I’ll get your daughter’s mark removed, but I need to make a stop first. It’s important.”
She pointed her sharp fingernail at my chest. “Should I remind you about our bargain?” Her nail punctured a hole in my shirt and I smacked her hand away.
“Watch it witch,” I said. “You’re crossing a dangerous line.”
“Am I?” She asked with a nasty grin. “Or do I need to remind you of what happens if you back out on our little bargain.”
Dammit. I wanted to punch the grin off her face. I didn’t have time for this. But I’d taken that stupid pill and I was going to dropped dead the moment I backed out.
“Fine,” I gritted through my teeth. “I’ll take you to her.” When we settled in the living room of Gemma’s house, my stomach dropped. It was strange, but I could sense her nearness, feel her in my veins like liquid fire.
Everything looked normal, chairs upright, TV off, photos still on the wall. They’d boarded up the windows, which was smart. I remembered when I’d heard the news from Aislin that the world had shifted into a Mark of Malefiscus mess. The letter had arrived via her witch powers, which meant a small flaming ball of paper had landed on my head, torching some of my hair. I still had a tiny bald spot.
I’d read the letter, but never wrote back, not wanting the wrong person to find out where I was and coming looking for me. I wanted to protect Gemma in every way possible, which meant keeping her away from me, no matter how crappy I felt. I deserved to feel that way 37
though. After all the hell I’d put her through.
But now I was back in her house, about to blow everything if she found out I was here. It was strangely quiet and my Keeper instincts went on high alert. I drew out my knife, which glinted dangerously in the light of the lamp.
“What are you doing?” Amelia asked, gazing at the room. “And where’s the witch? The one who can remove the mark?”
“Somewhere.” I hoped, but something felt off. “Stay here a minute. I’ll go get her.” Amelia sank down on the sofa, making herself at home. “Don’t worry, I m not going anywhere.” She kicked her feet on the table, mud falling off her boots.
My lip twitched and my knife itched to shut her up, but I turned my back on her and headed for the stairs. Each step creaked louder and I cringed, worried Gemma might hear me. If I worked this right, I could get in and out without her noticing. But when I reached the top of the stairs and saw that her door was cracked open, I couldn’t help it. It was like my legs didn’t belong to me anymore; they belonged to her. By the time I reached her door, my heart was all over the place and I wanted to choke it dead for making me so weak.
I peeked my head inside, blinking against the grayness of the low light. She was inside, I could feel her slight current of static. But there was no noise. She had to be asleep.
I gently pushed the door open, knowing what I was doing was wrong, but doing it anyway. I used to be more cautious about mistakes, think things through first, but that’s what she did to me. She confused my head and I ended up making stupid choices.
When I saw her lying in her bed, fast asleep, I stopped breathing. My hand fell to my side and I walked slowly across the room until I was next to her bed.
She was resting on her side, her cheek pressed against her pillow, hair all over the place, just like it always was. I should have left right then and there. I’d have been a better person if I did.
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But apparently, I was a selfish asshole. I let my fingers touch her hair, brushing it back and tucking it behind her ear.
She breathed deeply soundly not feeling the electric current. Which was strange because it was making me sweat.
I wished I could lean down and kiss her, press my lips against her cheeks. Honestly, I wished I could do a lot of things to her, things that could only be done behind closed doors. But that would never happen. Not if I couldn’t stop the vision from happening the way it was supposed to.
She let out a long sigh, like she sensed I was there. I decided it was time to go. I started to turn as she rolled over on her back. And what I saw made me sick. Her hands were tied, the rope cutting into her wrists. Blood was all over her neck and shirt and it looked like… I swept her hair back. Bite marks.