Chapter 28

Priestess Cassandra Jaxon sat across from me in my dimly lit, dark-walled study. Heavily draped with velvet curtains in varying hues of deep emerald and forest greens, the immense cathedral windows behind her displayed a brilliant full moon, reminding me we still had hours to go before sunrise, and this convening was already off to a shaky start.

The white cloak draped over her shoulders seemed to glow under the heavenly body's platinum light. Her black tunic pooled at her feet, practically indistinguishable from the black velvet chair she occupied. Her long, and limp golden hair lacked the flare of red flames her daughter possessed, but the radiant amber-colored eyes were the true sign of their lineage. She sat with a leg crossed over a knee, back straight, shoulders rigid.

Hands clasped over her lap, the witch twisted the gold trinity knot ring coiled around her right index finger, the one worn by all sister soothsayers. As their people's prophets, the rings they wore represented their ability to see the signs of Things That Were, Things That Are, and Things That Will Be. Anya still wore it as a pendant around her neck instead.

I made sure to remind myself that the woman before me was no ordinary witch, though something about her seemed off… way off. A witch's power usually gave off an almost undetectable hum, a vibration only older well-trained vampires could feel if they sharpened their senses. I'd felt nothing from her.

Cassandra fixed her disdainful gaze on me. Being inside my home clearly made her skin crawl. "You are a guest in my home, priestess. There is no need for such revulsion. You and your sisters are safe here."

A drop of sweat beaded on her forehead, followed by another. "I mean you no disrespect, lord vampire, but by capturing my daughter you've set off a ripple of events that cannot be undone. Time is of the essence, and you have no idea what you've started."

"That's precisely why I've invited you here. I need answers. Avery is more than a Spirit Marked, isn't she?"

"What she is shouldn't concern you. What matters is that thanks to you, she is now in more danger than you can imagine. Please, hand her over to the Sisterhood and let us do our duty to protect our own."

Slowly resting my hands on the black leather top of my antique French desk, I took a moment to assess the subtleties of her movement. The way her throat bobbed with each swallow, as if her mouth was dry. The growing patches of flushed skin on her neck. The way her pulse thumped with such urgency, and the way she picked at her nails.

Her anxiety was more than noticeable.

Finally, I said, "That is not what we agreed upon, at least not what your reverend mother said to my emissary. I will not so freely handover the Spirit Marked to the Sisterhood without convening with the Shadow Knights or finding out why it seems the Hive is working with Luther and why they aided in my brother's rescue."

Breath hitched, she stiffly pushed up to her feet. "We've been at this crossroads before. We know what they want. Avery is a Spirit Marked, and they plan to use her power to open the portal."

My gaze remained anchored to hers. "This is different, and you know it. Opening the portal is only part of the problem. The Hive has never worked with vampires before, especially my brother. They've gone as far as gifting Luther enchanted weaponry, some type of anticoagulant toxin that not only renders a vampire mortal, but accelerates decomposition. The cure is apparently also magic-based. Tell me how none of that is of my concern? How are we supposed to fight against that?"

"I understand this is worrisome for your kind, but the Sisterhood cannot enter into war with the Hive on behalf of your coven," she whispered harshly. "Our only concern is Avery. My daughter belongs with her sisters. She will be safer with us; we can protect her in ways you cannot."

Cocking my head, I grabbed the golden ballpoint pen sitting on my desk and gently twirled it between my fingers. "With all due respect, priestess, but where were you when the Hive attacked your daughter? If it weren't for me and my warriors, the Spirit Marked would be in the hands of the Vates Ordo as we speak. So don't lecture me about safety. From what I've gleaned, you abandoned your daughter years ago. You placed her in harm's way. We're just cleaning up your mess."

The witch stormed forward, gaze darkening to a thunderous reproach. "You know nothing about me or the decisions I was forced to make, so how about you don't lecture me about the burdens of a mother. The Sisterhood is grateful for your assistance, but I did not come here to ask for your permission to take my daughter back with me."

I leaned back in my chair and took a deep breath, marveling at the woman's convictions. "Your daughter is no longer a child. You have no authority over her."

"She is an untrained witch, lord vampire. A novice with uncontained, dangerous magic."

"And whose fault is that?"

"You can sit there and point fingers at me, but the fact remains, her powers are manifesting at an unsettling rate. Her magic is like a beacon. Every time she taps into the source, she will be signaling her location. Sooner or later, the fight will arrive at your doorstep. And we both know what happened the last time you tried to intervene in witch business. We are the only ones who can shield her power from the Hive."

"And what assures me the Sisterhood won't use Avery for their own sinister intents?"

"If I wanted to exploit my daughter's magic, I wouldn't have tried to hide her powers. What I did, I did to protect her—to protect her from this fate."

"You're a soothsayer, priestess. You, more than anyone, know we can't interfere with the sands of time."

She blinked in surprise when she realized I knew what her gift was—or had been, since I could no longer sense her individual vibration. And especially since she hadn't offered me that information on her own. Still, she wisely chose to ignore my bait."You're making a terrible mistake, lord vampire."

"Avery is my ward, and she will remain here until I and the Shadow Knights see fit. We can do this with or without your help, but it would be in your daughter's best interest—and that of the world's—that we work together."

A frantic knock sounded at my door, pulling our attention. "Come in," I said.

Bal pushed through accompanied by Armand. "Father, we need a word," he uttered, eyes rimmed with worry.

I nodded. To the priestess, I said, "I'm afraid we have nothing further to discuss. The Shadow Knights will be arriving shortly. Armand will see you to the dining hall; I do hope you and the sisters decide to stay. The chef has prepared a grand feast in your honor." I stood as a gesture of respect. "You know how my kind loves to lavishly entertain."

Armand approached, reaching for her elbow, but she yanked it from his touch. "This is not over," she said, lips terse, amber eyes wide. Now I understood where her daughter inherited that fiery attitude.

I said nothing as Armand guided her out of my study, making sure to keep his distance. Fighting the smile that pulled at the corners of my mouth, I sat back down on my leather chair. There was no denying I drew pleasure from stoking a witch's anger, but I had an inkling there was more to her rancor than her discontent with not being able to simply take her daughter back to her coterie.

Once the door closed, I ran a hand down my haggard face. "Please tell me there's a logistic problem with my cousin's arrival. Despite what I just told the priestess, I would love not to have to play fucking dress-up for the Knights tonight."

"Sorry to disappoint, Father, but we have a more critical problem. Your little witch is about to burn the bloody house down."

Now I understoodwhy the priestess was sweating in my study. I'd interpreted it as mere anger for having to share the same air with a vampire, but it appeared her body had also been reacting to the subtle rise in temperature to which mortals were more easily susceptible. "What the hell happened?" I asked as we hurried down the long corridors of Woods Manor, the two-hundred-year-old wooden floors creaking under the hard thuds of my boots.

"We had two guards outside her door when they suddenly started feeling heat coming from her room. They tried entering, but the knob scorched one of the guard's hands."

"Did she say anything?"

"Only that she wished to speak with you."

I grunted. Trek tried to warn me, reminding me of the time Arabelle almost burned down Bringham. As we continued to her bedroom, I tried not to think about the danger the witch posed to my coven. The walls, adorned in dark wood paneling, bore the weight of its history, each carving telling a tale of centuries gone by, the scent of aged wood lingering in the air, offering me both the comfort of being home and the terror of possibly losing it all because of that saints-damned untrained witch.

We ascended a set of spiral stairs and headed toward the third floor of the west wing, passing under pointed arched doorways framed with elaborate Gothic tracery, looming like gateways into another realm. Gargoyles perched on ledges, their grotesque faces frozen in eerie expressions, seemed to track my every move with judgmental gazes, as if all this was my bloody fault—and it likely was since I'd decided to bring her here instead of handing her over to the Knights.

As we drew closer to her room, I began to feel the heat. The baroque metallic green and gold wallpaper on this side of the house was already peeling and curling around her door. Anya and Ice were also standing in the hallway. "Does the Sisterhood know about this?" I asked the small group gathered.

"No one does, except us," Ice replied.

"Keep it that way. I don't want to alarm anyone."

Cautiously stepping toward the dark wooden door, I knocked a couple of times, feeling the heat against my face. "Miss Jaxon. You wanted to speak with me?"

Silence.

"May I please come in? I would very much like for you not to burn my house down. There are people who live here who I deeply care about. I would hate for them to lose their home." The door was locked from the outside, so I could've easily entered without her permission, could've tried to subdue her with my strength, but I'd already used force against her, and taken her from her home. Despite having an aversion to witches, I didn't want to deepen the rivalry.

Especially with her.

When I first went on the hunt for the Spirit Marked, I was expecting to find a cunning and ruthless witch, particularly if she was working with the Hive. But when I ran into Avery at Luther's club, my instincts reacted in a way I didn't understand. I knew witches were not to be trusted, but something about her felt oddly wrong.

She wasn't who I'd expected.

But the witch still made me nervous, though for entirely different reasons I cared not to explore.

I was about to knock again when a faint voice said, "Come in."

Gently turning the iron lock, I hissed as the heated metal burned my palm. Pushing through the entrance, I was immediately hit by a wave of heat that felt like I was walking into the mouth of a volcano. Vampires were resistant to extreme temperatures, but this was uncomfortable, even for me. Shutting the door behind me with my boot, I was taken aback when I locked eyes with the girl threatening to burn down my home.

Panting, she stood in the middle of the room, eyes encircled with an internal blaze. Arms splayed to the sides, her hands glowed bright orange, and a scorched scar in the shape of a triangle traced over her left palm. Her hair swayed in the air as if a breeze was blowing through the windows, though they remained closed.

Steam rose from her body. "You know," she said, lips shaking with a mirthless smirk, "it's kind of dumb to ask permission to come in when my door is locked from the outside."

Saints, the bratty witch loved to spar words. Normally, I'd fire back with some snark of my own, but right now was not the time to stoke this witch's fire. "It's for your own protection. Despite that, you're a guest in my house and this room is yours while you reside here. I intend to respect that."

"How noble of you. Kidnapping me to protect me… that's a cute way to twist things. But I don't need your protection."

I took a cautious step toward her, ignoring her attempts to bait me into an argument. I had a feeling it was her anger talking, not her truly wanting to ignite my own wrath. "You wanted to speak with me. I'm here now. Tell me what you want."

"I want you to release my spirit guardian. And I want to go home."

"Miss Jaxon, I'm afraid I cannot do that. If I were to release it, your power would be uncontainable."

She looked around the room—at the peeling and shrinking wallpaper, at the furniture, and the wood that had begun to expand, the cracking noises crackling around us. "You think my power is contained? That I can't burn your precious mansion down?"

"Miss Jaxon, I don't doubt you can, but that's not what worries me. Homes can be rebuilt, lives can't. If your desire is to hurt me, then do it. But leave everyone else out of this."

Her expression sagged and horror twisted her face. "I didn't want for any of this to happen… All I want is to go home."

I took another step closer to her. "We didn't start off on the right foot, and I'm truly sorry for that. Tell me how I can remedy it."

Her nostrils flared and the heat in the room rose. "A little late for apologies, don't you think?"

I put a palm up, hoping to placate her. "Miss Jaxon, please. Think of all the innocent people you'll be hurting if you raze this house to the ground."

Something in her demeanor changed, as if I'd reached the buried part of her that was fighting against her own rage. "I'm…losing control," she finally said, her voice breaking. "This … power, it's linked to my spirit, my emotions."

"You're hurt. I get that. And confused?—"

"Hurt? Confused? No, I'm fucking angry," she gritted, her hair flaring around her head like a viper's nest, eyes flaming brighter. "What that witch did to my friends. What you did to me. What my mo?—"

The temperature in the room rose another degree and I was certain the furniture and the draperies would soon ignite if I didn't bring her boiling anger to a simmer. "Then burn me. I'm the one who kidnapped you; I'm the one who took you from your friends. Burn me until I'm nothing but ashes, but please spare my coven. Please, Avery. This is not you."

"You don't know anything about me," she spat.

"I know enough to know you're not like other witches. Hurting innocent lives will destroy you, Avery."

Her eyes flooded with tears, snuffing out the flames in her gaze, knocking her to her knees, sobs pouring from her lips. "I don't want this power."

This time I didn't give a shit about caution, and I rushed to her, kneeling beside her.

"Shadow … He… he was able to ground me," she said.

I lifted her chin and the skin on my fingers sizzled, but I didn't pull away.

"He knew how to reach within me. How to find…" Avery lowered her gaze, more tears beading at the rim of her eyes only to evaporate upon contact with her skin.

"Shadow, that's your…"

"Spirit Guardian."

"The one the Hive took?"

She raised her gaze to mine and that internal blaze threatening to burn right through her flared again. "They hurt him. And now she's taken my fox, too," she gritted, the air in the room fanning hotter.

"Avery, listen. Your mother, she?—"

She scooted away from me until her back was against a wall. "Don't. Don't you fucking dare call her that. That woman doesn't deserve to be called my mother." Steam began to billow off her skin again.

"Avery, you're going to set yourself on fire if you don't control that anger."

Body shivering violently as if she was pitching a fever, she said, "You don't understand, do you? If I don't allow the vortex of flames seated at the core of my spirit to burn me up, everyone else in this house will die."

Eyes rolling to the back of her head, she whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. Tell Shadow…I tried." Then she fell unconscious, tumbling to the floor. Her skin flushed bright red with thermal energy, like a bomb about to go off, and I knew if I didn't do something, the witch would soon erupt into flames.

"I need help in here!"

I lifted Avery into my arms, my skin instantly blistering from the intense heat coming off her body. A freight train of emotions crashed into me, frying my nerves as all the pain coiled around Avery's heart wrapped itself around mine like barbed wire.

Saints, the girl was in utter agony—pain unlike anything I had ever felt. I didn't know how it was possible for my gift to be manifesting when I hadn't fed in days, but it had done so back in New York when we captured her, and now it was truly pillaging through my body. It almost dropped me to my knees.

Everyone who'd been in the hallway broke into the room and I immediately began shouting commands, "Bal, open all the windows. Ice, fill the bathtub with cold water. Anya, bring me that fucking fox. And tell Armand to send staff up with buckets of ice. Now. Hurry!"

Ice had already begun filling the clawed-foot tub in the large marble washroom when I rushed in and submerged Avery's scalding body, the sound of steam rising filling the room, condensation coating the windows and mirrors.

A gust of frigid air chased away the suffocating heat as Bal ran in and threw all the windows open. We had to keep the faucet running since the water kept evaporating, but thankfully, several kitchen staff arrived with buckets of ice, though it all melted in a matter of minutes.

"What happened?" Ice asked while I leaned over the tub and used the golden handheld shower head, gently running water over Avery's forehead, watching it cascade over her delicate face. Eyes still closed, body still limp.

"She's in pain," was all I could muster. But it was more than that; Avery's heart had been shattered beyond repair. And the pain had morphed into a depthless anger that would've consumed her… probably still would.

"What can I do to help?" Ice asked, placing a hand on my shoulder, her jade-green eyes soft with worry.

"You've done all you can. I'll stay with her until the heat subsides completely."

Ice looked at me with a hint of sadness in her gaze, as if she knew a truth I yet didn't. "I'll be in the bedroom if you need anything."

I stayed in the washroom with Avery for almost a half hour, pouring water over her head until her skin felt cold, and she began to stir. Her eyes fluttered gently, but she kept slipping in and out of consciousness, murmuring incoherent words. Lifting her out of the water, I carried her back into the room and laid her down on the bed. Ice was waiting, as she said she would. "She's going to need fresh clothing," I told her.

"I can look at your injuries when I'm done with her. I have a salve that will help with the pain."

I glanced down at my bare arms. I'd been so focused on the witch, the pain from the bleeding blisters hadn't even registered yet. She'd also managed to burn through my shirt, scalding my chest and abdomen as well. Without fresh blood in my system, healing came extremely slow. "I'll be okay. Just focus on keeping her cool and comfortable. You'll likely need lots of icepacks." Before leaving the room, I brushed a heavy strand of soaked curls from Avery's cheek and felt a cool, featherlike sensation run up my arm.

Gratitude.

"Don't mention it, little monster," I whispered to her, almost inaudibly.

Her lips twitched ever so lightly, and my heart tightened in a way that made me rush out of the room with sheer dread.

When I exited the bedroom, I slammed into Bal's chest, causing him to fall back into Armand. The poor human stumbled to the floor. Helping him stand, I said, "I'm so sorry."

"Everything okay, my lord?"

"Need some fresh air, that's all."

Anya was also outside, holding the fox in an iron leash. The poor creature looked miserable, in pain. A din of regret rang in my chest for allowing Cassandra to separate Avery from her spirit guardian. "Take the leash off," I told Anya.

The vampire balked. "But she'll have access to her full power. If she almost burned the place down before… Now? She'll?—"

"She's more dangerous without her connection to her spirit guardian. Let the beast comfort her. Saints know she needs it."

Anya hesitated for a moment, but my gaze told her I was in no mood to discuss the matter further. She unhooked the leash, and the fox immediately ran into the bedroom where Ice was helping Avery change out of her wet clothes.

"Bal, tell the Sisterhood and the Knights that tonight's dinner is canceled. We will reconvene tomorrow night. They are free to stay in the manor if they please. Armand, please have the Lady's Chamber on the east wing prepared for Miss Jaxon. This room is inhabitable."

"The one next to your bedroom, sir?"

"For her safety."

Eyebrows raised, he didn't object, though I knew the thoughts running through his head. "Very well, my lord. As you wish."

I nodded and was about to walk away when Bal grabbed my arm and I flinched, the sting of the burns now extremely palpable. "You honestly think having the Sisterhood and the Knights under one roof is a good idea? Dinner was one thing, but you're now offering them to stay the night. Are you mad?"

I looked deep into my son's green eyes. His anger with me had not waned. "What would you have me do?"

"Don't cancel the convening."

"Avery is in no condition to attend."

"And since when are prisoners allowed to participate in coven matters?"

"While she's here, she's under my protection. I don't intend to keep her in the dark about her predicament."

"If you're so inclined to protect her, putting her in your private wing is the last thing you should be doing. Especially after what happened at Requiem."

"That's why I intend to feed tonight."