Chapter 57

Evie

Ciomadul, Carpathian Mountains, Romania

E vie moaned and rolled over, her back spasming at the movement. Long cuts lined her body, and claw marks pierced her torso. Hissing, Evie sat up slowly, trying to determine whether she had any other more significant wounds. From what she could tell, no breaks, just bruises, gashes, burns, and puncture marks. Godsdamned serpents.

She had seen the gilded drakes sweeping above them seconds before they spewed their flames all over her and Cole. She screamed in surprise and then in pain when one of the monsters snatched her from where she stood, ripping her hand from Cole’s and sweeping her away over the trees. She had only escaped when, in a fit of rage, she loosed a stream of magic that struck the drake in the eye. Screaming in pain, the thing had dropped her, and she had half a second to force the trees she was hurtling towards to lift their limbs to slow her descent. Fortunately, they did actually slow her enough that she didn’t burst like a ripe watermelon when she hit the ground. Unfortunately, many of the branches broke, one of which was currently stabbing into her waist, and she had blacked out before her less-than-graceful landing.

Taking a deep breath, she tugged at the branch piercing her waist, a short yelp escaping her as she tore it from of her flesh. Fucking nine realms, that hurt. Now that she no longer had plant life inside of her, though, she started panicking. Cole wasn’t with her. She had no idea how far the drakes had taken her, had no clue how long she had been unconscious. What if Cole was… she shied away from completing the thought. No. She couldn’t think about that right now. If she let herself anywhere near the idea that Cole might be gone, she would go mad sitting here on the forest floor in the middle of the Carpathian mountains.

Although why the devil snakes would attack them, she had no idea. Only a powerful witch could control drakes. Why would a witch of that caliber be interested in destroying her and Cole? But she had seen witches ranged along the tree line before the drakes showed up. She clenched her eyes shut, pressing her palms to them in an effort to make it make sense. She couldn’t puzzle any of this out. At the end of the day, though, it didn’t really matter why. All that mattered was that she get back to Cole.

Evie forced herself to her feet, slowly bringing herself to a full stand. The world spun around her, and she stumbled inelegantly, almost tumbling to the ground. Her fall was broken by a tree extending a willowy branch to wrap around her waist before she could fall. As she stayed put, standing but not moving, supported by the branch, her head slowly stopped spinning. “Thank you,” she whispered to the tree limb as it slowly drew back from her.

The forest was deadly quiet, the ash providing an overwhelming barrier against all sound. Even her own hesitant steps were muffled. The only thing she could hear with clarity was the still shrieking volcano. So those damn drakes hadn’t dropped her in another country. A small victory. The thrumming from the Underworld entrance still pulsed through her like another heartbeat, guiding her steps towards the volcano.

The birds and other wildlife had been run out of the forest by the natural disaster. While many may have escaped, she could feel the corpses of those that hadn’t moved quickly enough, burned and twisted beyond recognition by the lava flows still streaming steadily down the mountain.

Her steps were weak, each one leaving a small trail of blood behind her. From each blood speck, a new tree grew, increasing from the size of a sapling to a fully established tree to death in just minutes. The full spectrum of life to death, all from a small drop of her blood. With each tree’s death, though, she felt the magic seep from it into her, wound after wound knitting itself shut in this way until, after a few hundred steps, her injuries were completely healed. Her skin was still coated in blood, but she didn’t care. There was no need for cleanliness. Once she returned to the crater site, to the witches who had endangered Cole, she would bathe in their blood.

To her right, a branch cracked loudly. She whirled towards the sound, already summoning trees to her aid but stared in confusion when she saw Hecate. “Cate?” Her voice faltered as the goddess she had met at Cole’s uncle’s house stepped towards her.

That day, Cate had been collected and cool. Now, though, she appeared unhinged. Her black hair was disheveled and tangled, falling unevenly around her shoulders, and her perfectly applied eyeliner was heavily smudged around her eyes, giving her a gaunt appearance. Shadows followed her every move, thick and heavy, cloaking her from head to toe. Most noticeable, though, were her eyes, glowing violet in the ashen afternoon, a tangible madness festering within their depths.

For a moment, Evie forgot about everything that had happened: the drakes’ attack, the witches at the lake’s edge, all of it. “Cate!” she exclaimed, rushing towards the goddess. Halfway to her, Evie stopped, her mind catching up, flinching at the memory of plummeting to the earth after freeing herself from the drakes. Drakes that had to be controlled by a powerful witch. Cate was a member of the Witches Council Judiciary, the goddess of witches. Surely if a powerful witch were involved in a murder attempt involving the flying serpents from hell, Cate would know about it? Evie stood frozen, mere feet away from Cate, unsure. Could she trust her?

“They found you, didn’t they?” The goddess’ voice was throaty, a raspiness that spoke of screaming rather than sensuality.

Evie nodded. “They did.” She hesitated for only a second before asking, “What happened? Why were their witches there?”

“After the Council vote that I warned the two of you about, the traditionalist witches took matters into their own hands. They were led by Madea and Circe. They believed the only way to follow the prophecy was to kill you and Cole.” As if to herself, Cate muttered, “Not that killing the old gods was ever part of the fucking prophecy.”

Well, that would explain the gilded drakes. Legend had it that Madea controlled two of them, but those who knew they existed weren’t around to tell the tale. But both witches were members of the Judiciary with Cate. What if she was part of this? Evie drew her shoulders back. “Were you a part of their plans?”

“ Never .” Hecate’s eyes flashed, the shadows surrounding her flaring around her head like a viper’s hood. “Those cowards waited to attack until I left to warn you and Cole of the Council’s vote on the prophecy. I only discovered the slaughter when I returned and saw my beautiful daughters… ” Her words trailed off, her eyes going blank.

“What slaughter?” The goddess remained silent in response to Evie’s question. “What fucking slaughter, Cate?”

“Language, my dear girl,” a familiar voice chastised from behind the catatonic goddess. Hesteia stepped out from around Cate, her face seeming older than it had been the last time Evie had seen her.

Evie choked out a sob and raced towards one of the constants in her life, throwing her arms around the elder’s neck.

Running a hand down Evie’s back, Hesteia answered the earlier questions. “The Council was voting on whether you and your gentleman friend—” Evie tugged away to give Hesteia an appalled stare at her choice of words. “—were the old gods returned to initiate the witches’ prophecy and, if so, whether we must adhere to the prophecy’s requirements.” Sighing, she continued. “The vote was tied, and the Judiciary didn’t have a unanimous vote either way. Hecate left to warn you and Cole of the Council’s actions, and, while she was gone, Medea and Circe led the traditionalists in a massacre of the elders who voted to oppose the prophecy. We—” she gestured to the small group now surrounding them. “—are all that’s left of the elders who opposed carrying out the prophecy.”

“Where’s Chloe?” Evie’s eyes scanned the crowd. “Thea? Adelaide? Bernadette?”

“Evie, my love, I’m here.” Thea sprinted towards her, grasping the younger witch's hands to draw her in to a firm hug. “And Ette is right over there.”

“Thea, Ette, and I survived.” Hesteia wrapped her arm around her wife. “But, Evie, gods, I’m so sorry, Evie. Chloe died in the massacre.”

“What?” Evie shook her head. “No, that can’t be right. Chloe was a powerful witch. She never would have . . .” Her eyes caught on Hesteia’s broken expression. “No. You must be mistaken.”

“I’m not, darling.” Hesteia’s response was heavy with emotion. “I saw it with my own eyes. I was there when she took her last breath. She’s gone, Evie. I’m so sorry.”

Evie’s mouth trembled. No matter what had happened between them, no matter what Chloe had hidden, she wasn’t ready for her adoptive mother to be dead. Not after they left their last conversation the way that they had. Tears pressed against the corners of her eyes. The closest thing she had to a mother was gone. At that realization, her tears fell, quick and heavy down her cheeks. Raising a shaking, bloody hand to her face, Evie swiped them away viciously. “And Adelaide?”

“Adelaide… she didn’t make it, either. The small group of elders before you? We're all that’s left. We may have all trained to fight, but we weren’t prepared for this.” One of the younger elders whimpered, a horrifying soundtrack to Hesteia’s next statement. “The Council is now spearheaded by our most extreme bigots, and the more moderate covens are leaderless.”

Evie’s eyes hardened, her head tilting. “Let me get this straight,” she began, disbelief dripping from every word. “You are allied with the goddess of witches who so aggressively opposes the prophecy that she was willing to align herself with the ‘returned old gods.’” Her hands flew up into scare quotes on those words before dropping back to her sides. “And you have the ‘old gods’ themselves on your side. But you think that the new generation covens are leaderless?” A harsh laugh echoed from her mouth, completely void of humor. “That’s asinine.”

Hesteia jerked backwards. “Evie, I don’t think you under—”

“Don’t coddle me, Hesteia, I understand far more than you think,” Evie snapped, pursing her lips as realization dawned on her. “Including that I imagine these Council and Judiciary traditionalists, specifically Madea and Circe, were the ones who forced you all to sterilize me and perform memory regressions on me.”

Beside them, Cate finally moved, shocked out of her stupor. “Yes. After Cassandra had her vision when your elders found you, certain Council members were concerned about letting you join a coven. They were overruled by an overwhelming number, but Medea forced the Draconian measures you just mentioned to a vote by the Judiciary. Circe concurred.”

“Well, you may want to steer clear of Cole once we get back to the lake. His feelings towards the Witches Council are still somewhat homicidal at the moment.” Evie drew her shoulders back. “Wait, how did you find me?”

“The traditionalists scryed for you, and Hesteia overheard where you were.”

“But we were in Budapest. We didn’t get to Romania until… you know what? I don’t care how you found us. I need to get back to Cole. Now.” Evie strode in the direction that the magic of the Underworld was tugging her. “Medea’s drakes attacked us just when we found the path to the Underworld. Those golden flying assholes grabbed me right after they spewed fire on us, and I don’t . . .” Her fire tapered off a bit, but she kept walking. “I don’t know what happened to him.” She couldn’t lose Cole. Not only that, but she wouldn’t lose him on the same day Chloe was taken from her. It wasn’t happening. As she realized the depths of anguish she felt at Chloe’s loss, her choice to take the throne with Cole became even more clearly the right one. Death was a part of life, but she wouldn’t be party to people’s needless suffering at the witches’ bloodthirsty interpretation of an ambiguous prophecy. That is if Cole was still alive. She stumbled as fear flooded her but caught her footing and sped up. Tears still rolled down her face, but her purpose was clear before her. Get back to Cole. Claim the Underworld. Destroy the traditionalist elders.

Sensing her panic at Cole’s fate, Hesteia jogged to her. “It’s alright, my darling,” she murmured breathlessly as she tried to keep up with Evie’s rapid pace. “You’ll be back with him soon.”

“And you’ve brought reinforcements.” Hecate’s eyes were hard, glowing violets made more astonishing by the darkness surrounding her. “I have but one request, Queen of the Underworld.”

Evie’s eyes darted around before she realized Cate was referring to her. Trying to compose herself, she answered, “And that is?”

Cate’s expression was mutinous. “I want to be the one to dispatch Medea and Circe. Let me be the one to destroy their bodies before you and Cole throw their souls into the depths of Tartarus.”

Evie inclined her head in agreement then shouted to the rest of the group, “You heard her! Cate gets Medea and Circe. You may have any of the rest.” Catching sight of open air past the trees, she raced to its edge only to stop in astonishment at the sight of a blood-drenched Cole wearing an evil smile and turning a witch into ash with a single touch, a massive three-headed dog with a woman’s torso hanging out of its mouth, and a sea of corpses attacking the mutinous elders.