8. Gwen

CHAPTER EIGHT

GWEN

I shuffled through the pile of ancient texts, my eyes burning from hours of squinting at faded script. The scent of musty parchment filled my nostrils as I reached for my mug, grimacing at the now-cold tea.

"You know, Rocky, I'm starting to think these witches were deliberately cryptic." I glanced at Garrex's statue form, a smirk playing on my lips. "Or maybe they just had terrible handwriting."

My gaze lingered on his chiseled features, memories of last night flooding back. The slight chill of his touch before heat blazed to life, his insatiable hunger for my pleasure, the way he'd?—

I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. There'd be time for that later. When the sun set and he came back to life, no doubt ready to argue about my research methods.

I'd awakened to find him already as still as a statue, and serving me even in that involuntary act. He'd taken up position in the library with a full view of the desk I'd claimed as my own and the open archway.

Watching, always.

The locket caught my eye, gleaming in the lamplight. I picked it up, its weight now familiar in my palm. Neither of us had figured out how to open it. I wanted to take it to a jeweler; Garrex wanted to cast it into the nearest volcano.

An unopenable object, little witch? Do you have any idea the dangers that could be locked inside?

My fingers traced the intricate patterns etched into its surface, feeling the faintest hint of... something. I'd already tried adding power to it like Ivy showed me with the bangle. Nothing. This was different. Special.

I glanced at Garrex's statue form, half-expecting him to spring to life and scold me for messing with magical artifacts. Again.

"Don't give me that look," I muttered, tangling the locket's chain around my fingers. "I know what I'm doing."

Lies. I had no clue what I was doing, but that hadn't stopped me before.

I shot a grimace at the diadem and the charm, now locked away in a display case. No more accidental joinings until I had better control over this, that, and every other thing. I wouldn't have put it past Garrex to hide the key in his pockets before getting stoned, either.

Absentmindedly toying with the locket, I turned back to the sea of books and papers sprawled across the desk. I'd decided to comb through the library's collection of lineages. Something Garrex mentioned about the other gargoyle, Sulien, scratched at my mind. He'd served multiple generations of one family, and Garrex's decor made him seem to be the Thornes' biggest fan.

I didn't know if the pairings were personal choice or some greater link between the generations, but blood mentioned often enough in the spell books and lore I'd flipped through. Calling on ancestral spirits and cursing the blood of enemies were pretty standard passages.

Regardless, magic seemed to pass down the line. Thorne witches birthed Thorne witches birthed Thorne witches. Sulien served multiple Lockwood witches.

I traced a finger over the branches spread out across the pages of the open Thorne book. The biggest surprise—at least for that five-minute stretch—had been the Thorne line itself. I'd assumed the line ended with Cecily, but that hadn't been strictly true.

Margery Thorne made exactly one appearance in the limited browsing I'd done. Her name and birthdate, a year after Cecily's death, were scrawled into the margin, the ink now nearly faded. But with the lack of continuing chapters and Garrex's silence, I wasn't hopeful she lived a long and happy life.

My own family tree remained frustratingly blank. No obvious magical connections or references in Garrex's collections of tomes, no half-remembered stories of mysterious events. Just generations of painfully ordinary Fletchers, until me.

My gaze drifted to a scrap of paper nearby, my hasty scrawl reminding me to ask Mom about those restaurant drawings.

"Unusually good luck," I murmured, remembering a passage I'd read earlier. "A manifestation of latent magical ability?"

I snorted. If that were true, I'd have been rolling in lottery winnings by now. But still... those free lunches. The parking spot that always seemed to open up just when Grandma needed it. The antiques that practically fell into my lap at work.

I turned the locket over and over as my mood dipped. I didn't know if good luck meant anything. Blood could matter or it could be just a common turn of dramatic phrase. I didn't know how to find the rest of the charms, fight vampires, or fix the world's magic, and the one with all the experience spent half the day frozen in place.

I didn't know if he could hear or see in there, either.

Half a life, that's all he had. It wasn't fair. What happened to Cecily was tragic, yes, but no reason to blame Garrex and curse his entire clan.

Maybe it was foolish, the zeal of a newbie witch high on her first taste of real magic. But I wanted to fix this. To unite the charms and the diadem, to undo whatever mistakes Cecily had made.

And selfishly, so selfishly, I wanted more time with Garrex. A full life, not just stolen moments in the dark.

I sighed, reaching for my mug. The tea had long since gone cold, but with a subtle flick of my fingers and a whispered incantation, warmth spread through the ceramic. Steam rose lazily as I lifted it to my lips and sipped the now-perfect brew.

So maybe I did know a thing or two.

I turned back to my books, the locket clutched tightly in my hand. The metal had warmed from my handling. I flattened my palm and ran my thumb along the curved edge. No latch. The whole piece was thick enough to stuff an acorn inside, but no discernable way in?—

"Fuck," I hissed, jerking my hand back. A tiny droplet of blood welled up where the locket's edge had nicked my skin. I brought my finger to my lips, sucking away the metallic taste.

The locket warmed in my palm, the edges glowing as the engravings came alive with an unearthly light.

Click.

A barely perceptible seam appeared along its edge. With trembling fingers, I pried the locket apart.

Inside, nestled against dark velvet, lay a plain, small charm in the shape of a flying bird. It glowed faintly, pulsing with an energy that had become familiar in the crazed rush of days. An answering hum of energy rose from the diadem in the display case.

Another of Cecily's charms used in her final spell.

Careful not to touch the actual charm, I plucked it from its resting place by a thin loop of ribbon. "Holy shit," I breathed, turning to face Garrex's statue. "Do you see this?"

I would never, ever doubt the magic of luck again.

Garrex's stone face remained impassive, but I swore I felt a shift in the air. Maybe it was just my imagination running wild, or maybe...

As I held the charm up to the light, admiring its delicate craftsmanship, something flickered in my peripheral vision.

A shadow, quick and silent, darting just out of sight.

My heart leapt into my throat, adrenaline flooding my system. I stuffed the bird back into the locket and rose from my seat. One glance confirmed Garrex hadn't suddenly fought off his curse and come to life in the daylight.

I was letting my imagination run wild. Probably just a shadow from one of the guttering flames that rose anytime I got within a few feet.

Still, a chill shivered down my spine.

"Hello?" My voice sounded small, swallowed up by the underground chambers. "Is anyone there?"

I crept toward the archway and wished desperately for even an ounce of the confidence I'd felt during our impromptu heist. But there, I'd had Garrex's steady presence, his voice in my ear. Here, I was alone. A fledgling witch with more questions than answers and a shiny new bird charm I barely understood.

Something shifted in the shadows in the main chamber. I froze, breath catching in my throat.

Cloaked and silent, two figures materialized from the darkness. They seemed to glide across the floor, moving with inhuman speed. They reached in unison to lower their hoods, revealing skin dried and drawn tight against their skulls.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I opened my mouth to scream?—

A cloud of glittering powder exploded in my face.

I choked, inhaling sharply in surprise. Big mistake. The world tilted sideways, colors bleeding into each other like a watercolor left in the rain. My legs turned to jelly beneath me.

"No," I tried to say, but my tongue felt thick and uncooperative. The locket slipped from my nerveless fingers, hitting the stone floor with a dull clatter that echoed strangely in my ears.

As darkness crept in from the edges of my vision, a single, crystal-clear thought cut through the haze:

Garrex was going to be so pissed when he woke up.

Then, nothing.

My head throbbed like a jackhammer was drilling into my skull. I forced my eyes open, blinking against the dizzying swirl of shadows and firelight. Rough stone pressed against my back, and the acrid scent of smoke filled my nostrils.

This wasn't the Undercroft.

As my vision cleared, terror clenched my gut. Pale faces with gleaming eyes peered at me from the darkness. Vampires. At least a dozen of them, their gazes fixed on me with predatory hunger.

I tried to move, but my limbs felt leaden. Whatever that powder was, it had left me weak as a newborn kitten.

Panic clawed at my throat. Where was Garrex? How long had I been out?

A figure in a hooded cloak swept into the chamber. The vampires immediately backed away, their snarls fading to uneasy silence.

"Now, now," a familiar voice chided. "Is that any way to treat our guest?"

My blood ran cold. I knew that voice.

Ivy.

She lowered her hood, revealing a triumphant smirk that made my skin crawl. She wore the lunar diadem with three charms dangling in her hair. Tiny moons and an arching fish brought Cecily's sketches to life, but I'd held the star and bird in my own fingers.

Three. She wore three charms.

The locket swung like a pendulum from her fingers, its silver surface gleaming in the torchlight.

"I must admit, I'm impressed," Ivy said, her tone dripping with false sweetness. "Who would have thought a novice like you could find not just the diadem, but a lost charm, too?" Her eyes narrowed. "Though I'm quite put out that you sealed that bird back in its cage. No matter. I have ways of making it sing."

Anger burned through the fog of fear and confusion. She knew about the charm.

Truthfully, I had no idea how I'd sealed it away again. But that pledge to never doubt the magic of luck held like a solid fucking blast wall.

But the betrayal hit me hard. She'd told me about the auction. She'd appeared at my side the moment I locked on to the decoy locket.

This wolf dressed like a peacock and smiled like a friend, and we'd walked into her trap.

"How?" I demanded. "How did you get into the Undercroft? Garrex said?—"

"Oh, your dear stone guardian," Ivy interrupted with a laugh. "So noble, so trusting. That little protection kiss I gave you? It's more like a key... and catnip." She tapped her temple. "It lets me go wherever you go, and it broadcasts your location to every vampire under my control."

The vampires hissed at that, the sound raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

Under her control.

My stomach curdled. This betrayal went past enemies. She'd turned my own body against me. Against Garrex.

"Why..." I swallowed hard, fighting back the bile rising in my throat. "Why am I still alive?"

"Oh, darling." Ivy's lips curled into a sneer. "You're not as expendable as you might think."

She nodded to the vampires. Three of them swooped in and grabbed hold of my arms and hauled me to the center of the room. A small cistern, I could see now. I could do little more than stumble, the strength sapped by the powder and the lingering effects of my unconsciousness.

"You see, after my ancestors ripped the diadem from Cecily's cold, dead clutches, we made a rather unfortunate discovery." Ivy sauntered closer, tapping the diadem perched on her brow. "This little beauty? It's blood keyed. Utterly inert without a Thorne's touch."

The room swam, and I wasn't entirely certain my feebleness was the cause. "But I'm not?—"

"Oh, but you are," Ivy cut me off. "Only a Thorne would be able to open the locket. Congratulations, you're royalty."

I shook my head, desperately clinging to any shred of hope. "No, you're wrong. I didn't open the locket. It must have been?—"

"Oh, spare me," Ivy snapped, her eyes flashing with irritation. "Such a pitiful attempt at deception. It's beneath you. We are witches, darling. We should be worshiped."

I glared at Ivy, my heart pounding against my ribs. A Thorne. I was a Thorne. The weight of generations pressed down on me, a legacy I never knew I carried.

"But it doesn't have to be this way. Think of the possibilities." Ivy's expression softened, a mask of false benevolence sliding into place. She reached for my hands, eyes big and pleading. "Together, we could reshape magic for the entire world. No more scraping by with meager wells and half-formed spells. We could restore what was lost, make it even greater."

"Go to hell," I spat.

"Admirable. Stupid, but admirable." Ivy's face hardened, all pretense of kindness evaporating. "Your cooperation would have made this easier, but it's hardly necessary. I'll simply hollow you out and turn you into a living well."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I'd seen Ivy's collection of magical artifacts, and felt the stored power humming within them. But to do that to a person? To me?

Ivy stepped back, flicking her wrist dismissively. Invisible bonds yanked my arms over my head, leaving me suspended and helpless. Panic clawed at my throat as Ivy's silhouette moved towards the chamber's exit.

"Sweet dreams, little witch," she purred. With another gesture, the torches sputtered out, plunging the room into inky darkness. "Our work begins at twilight."

The sudden absence of light left me reeling. I struggled against my invisible shackles as the sounds around me intensified—rasping breaths, the scrape of claws on stone, hungry growls that sent ice through my veins.

No. No, no, no.

Desperation surged through me. I reached deep inside, grasping for that spark of magic I'd barely begun to understand. My whole being recoiled at the thought of giving myself, my power, to someone else. I couldn't end up no better than a battery.

A faint warmth bloomed in my chest. I latched onto it, willing it outward with every ounce of concentration I could muster. Slowly, painfully, a small orb of light sputtered to life above my head.

The vampires hissed and momentarily retreated from the glow. But even as relief washed over me, I felt the drain on my energy.

The light flickered.

I gritted my teeth, struggling to maintain the spell.

Flicker.

Sweat beaded on my forehead.

Flicker.

The vampires growled, emboldened. Claws raked closer in the darkness, testing the edges of my feeble protection.

Flicker.

In that shaky light, I caught glimpses of razor-sharp fangs and hungry eyes.

Garrex, I thought desperately. Please. Find me.

The orb sputtered, threatening to go out completely. I choked back a scream when an icy hand brushed against my ankle. As the shadows pressed in, a terrifying thought struck me:

Would there be anything left of me when he arrived?