54. Chapter Fifty Three

Chapter Fifty Three

Skyla

Y ou could hear a piece of hair hit the ground as we step inside the room. It’s that silent. I was so nervous to be back here. In these tunnels, in this room. I never wanted to step foot in here again. Something about it just seems right, though. Like something coming full circle, and the look on Christopher’s face is priceless.

Together, we move further into the room, my father’s arm looped on my right, my mother’s on my left. Shock and fear shoot around the room as everyone takes in my seemingly risen from the dead mother. I can’t help but relish in the panic and then anger that crosses Henry’s face when he sees me holding onto my real dad.

“G-giselle?” Christopher asks, attempting to stand before Asher shoves him back down.

He doesn’t seem upset about it, too awestruck by the woman before him. “How? How is this possible?” he asks.

My mother gives him a demure smile that is absolutely dripping vengeance.

“Well, despite your best efforts to kill me, I prevailed. I’m afraid the same won’t be able to be said for you.”

Like a deranged lovesick fool, he ignores the bold threat as he shakes his head in awe.

“I can’t believe it. You’re back. Baby, I—”

“I’d appreciate it if you would no longer address my wife,” my father bites out, earning a thunderous look from Christopher.

“You! You…you Proctor scum! Giselle, my love, please tell me you have not…consorted with the descendants of a witch!”

“Of course not,” she says. “I fell in love, married and had a baby with one. You’ve met my daughter, your daughter-in-law.” She smiles.

Christopher gives me a disgusted look but shakes his head as Henry speaks.

“How the fuck did you survive?”

My mother lifts her hand, wiggling her fingers in a way that makes every Elder ease back into their seats. Like those few inches will grant them safety.

“Magic, Henry.”

I try to hold in my laugh as I now fully understand that is not at all how magic or practiced witchcraft actually works. Though, it is entertaining to see how terrified every person in the room is currently.

My mom squeezes my arm, signaling me to take my place and I nod as I make my way through the room. All eyes track me carefully, and I hold eye contact with each of my boys, giving them loving smiles before taking up my position behind my father. Ronan steps to the side, pressing a kiss to the side of my head that has Christopher sneering.

Ronan ignores him as he stands behind Charles Stroughton, pressing his dagger against his back as I grab my own and do the same to Henry.

“Ronan?” Christopher snaps.

“I know you had your assumptions, Christopher, but let the record show. Yes, I am with all of them. I’m married to Asher, and dating Ronan, Liam, Vincent, and Wesley.”

“Fucking whore,” Henry hisses, to which Asher promptly reaches over, jabbing the butt of the dagger into the back of his head.

I smirk down at the sight, before looking to Asher.

“Thank you, baby.”

“No problem, princess,” he grunts before his dagger is aimed back on his father.

“Are you proud of yourself, Skyla?” Christopher asks me. “Tell me, what is your grand plan now? You’re going to kill us all?” he laughs like it’s impossible. “Then what?”

“Then…we live happily ever after, I guess? Sound good with everyone?” I ask all the guys, even Dane, Jeremy, and Andrew. They all nod their agreement, and I shrug as I look down at Christopher.

“The Brethren is finished, disbanded, decimated. Whatever word you would like to use.”

“You can kill us all, but you will never erase our legacy! Erase our truths!”

“Like the truths in Thomas Putnam’s journal?” I ask.

Christopher’s eyes go wide and he doesn’t even try to hide his fear.

“Like the truths behind those missing pages inside that journal. You know, funny thing about that. The Proctors, that’s my biological father’s surname for anyone who is slow,” I say, addressing the room, “they also keep detailed records of their family history. Elizabeth Proctor was a bit of a hoarder in her later years. Even kept the journal entries that Thomas ripped out and gave to her.”

I shake my head. The details don’t matter. This idea of hierarchy and superiority is all built up, in all of their own heads. It sure is satisfying to see it all crumble before Christopher’s eyes, though.

“The foundation you were all built on. The man who led the cause to eradicate witches, not just during the trials, but after, as well? The one responsible for creating the Brethren was in love with a witch.”

Several noises of surprise echo around the room at that, and Christopher seethes as he stares at me.

“In the end, he seems to have betrayed her, turned his back on the one he loved out of pressure to become some great leader. Kind of like you did to my mother,” I say as I look between Christopher and my mom. “It’s okay, though. Everything always comes full circle.”

With that final word, more people begin spilling into the room. One by one, lining the room. Feared gasps and looks of terror splash across every Elder’s face as every person from my parents’ coven line the room. Rachel takes up her spot beside my father, staring straight at Christopher. Clearly, she knows who he is, and he knows her.

“I swear to Christ, I will make it my afterlife’s mission to haunt and terrorize you for the rest of your days,” Henry snarls at me.

I shake my head. “Where you’re going, you won’t be doing anything but swimming laps in a lake of fire.”

Rachel speaks first, calling the entire attention of the room.

“See the cruelty and the pain that you have spread, our ancestors slain.”

The entire room joins in, their tones steady and hardened.

“The fear you spread from a self-appointed throne, now under the light of the Snow Moon you shall atone. We bring light to your actions, we will be free. Together, we end the persecution of thee. When the moonlight fades, and the sun comes through, our ancestors will come for you. We say this spell of karma tonight, we are witches. We will fight.”

As one, we all lift our knives to our family’s throats and Asher takes the last opportunity to speak into his father’s ear.

“Burn in fucking hell.”

With a fluid motion, throats are slit around the room. One by one, bodies slump forward onto the table, blood seeping out of their wounds and creating a collective pool in the center. A few gargle and choke on their blood, the sounds echoing throughout the room. I’m the last person to slice, making sure to go extra shallow so Henry suffers for as long as possible. He deserves it, and more.

My gaze moves to Liam, a vengeful look in his eyes that matches Wesley’s and Vincent’s. Dane seems to feel no sorrow, nor does Jeremy. Andrew is shaking, tears sliding down his face, but when he meets my eyes, he nods shakily. Like he knows he did the right thing.

Looking over my shoulder, I see Ronan watching me with an assured nod. I can’t help but let the dagger slip from my hands, the iron clattering against the blood soaked table.

It’s done. They’re gone.

A wrong from over three hundred years ago has been righted and repaid.

We’re free.