Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Thirty-Nine

‘Here we are. Happy birthday, Emily.'

Bonaventure looked just like I remembered but it didn't feel the same. I didn't feel the same. Overhead, the peach-pink sunset sky promised this would all be over soon. The moon moved closer with every passing second and I felt my magic growing, covering my body like armour.

‘You're sure this is a good idea?' Jackson looked extremely perturbed. ‘You don't even know where you're going. I could come with you.'

‘I couldn't let you,' I replied, warmed by the knowledge that he really meant it. ‘Don't worry about me, she'll be easy enough to find. I have to go the rest of the way on my own.'

He rested his hand on my shoulder, eyebrows drawn to-gether.

‘But you don't have to.'

‘I know.' I opened the passenger-side door of his Audi and climbed out. ‘Thank you. You're a really good brother and a really great friend.'

‘Walking straight into the jaws of certain doom and she still had time to friendzone me,' he said with a chuckle. ‘I know this is the wrong time for it but really, Em? You threw me over for a werewolf?'

‘Wasn't intentional.' I smiled, tying my hair up and back in a tight ponytail. ‘And I am sorry. Anyone would be lucky to date you, Jackson.'

‘Well, you still owe me that rain check. Don't think I won't hold you to it.'

He put the car in reverse and backed up a couple of feet. ‘You're sure you don't want me to wait?'

Looking over at Catherine's car, parked up in front of the church, a blank Barnett in the driver's seat, I shook my head.

‘If everything works out, I'll have a ride,' I told him. ‘As soon as you get back, I need you and Ashley to put Lyds in the car and get as far out of town as possible. Promise me.'

‘I will,' he said solemnly and I felt his fear and anger before it showed up on his face. ‘Em?'

‘Yes?'

‘Kick her ass.'

I waited right where I was and watched him drive away, not moving until the tail lights disappeared. I couldn't promise any of them would be safe after this but at least he had a head start.

The first time Catherine brought me to Bonaventure, it was to meet our dead relatives. This time, I passed through the cemetery hoping not to join them. I moved swiftly past the graves as night fell, following whispers in the moss that guided me over and across and around, running faster than I might have guessed towards my own possible end. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. She made sure I would come, she almost certainly knew I was here. I could feel her and Wyn, their very different energies both calling to me across the cemetery. Out-of-season azaleas burst into life to draw me through the maze, leading me along the banks of the Wilmington River. The carefree flowers didn't know the danger they were in, only that a new Bell witch was about to Become and as far as they were concerned, that was cause for celebration. But the sleeping residents of Bonaventure had heard differently. The statues turned and hung their heads sadly, glowing under the full moon, and I offered them a sympathetic smile as I passed. This night should have been shrouded in darkness, not blessed by the beautiful, milky moonlight. They'd earned their eternal rest, they shouldn't have to see this.

‘She's waiting for you.'

A tiny voice, sweet and high and clear as a bell, rang out from the darkness. It was a little girl, no more than five or six, with long hair and bangs framing her pretty face. Her shoes had a row of pearl buttons up one side and her dress was pristine, despite the fact she was happily sitting in the dirt. Above her, I saw a statue on top of a grave. The same hair. The same shoes. The same dress. The same little girl.

‘Do you know where my grandmother is?' I asked softly. She inclined her head to one side and smiled.

‘Don't you?'

‘The Bell monument,' I guessed and she nodded.

‘Could you open the gate for me?' the little girl asked, tiny hands wrapped around the tall railings that surrounded her grave. ‘I haven't been out to play for such a long time.'

No harm could come to her now. I held the padlock that kept her inside in my hand. It was made of steel. Steel was made of iron, iron came from the earth. A flurry of vines swooped down from the closest tree, smothering the lock, squeezing it tighter and tighter until I heard it pop. The gate swung open and the little girl skipped towards me.

‘People leave me presents sometimes,' she said, kneeling down to pick through a pile of trinkets that sat outside the grave. ‘I can't reach them through the fence. They put it up to keep me safe but they didn't know it would trap me inside. They thought they were helping.'

‘People do that sometimes,' I told her as she held her gifts up to the moon to inspect them more clearly, smiling with delight at each one. ‘They mean well.'

‘Yes, they do.' A deliberative expression overcame her innocent face then she giggled, listening to something I could not hear. ‘Your father loves you so much,' she said happily. ‘He didn't mean for any of this to happen.'

Shaken, I blew a long, slow stream of air out of pursed lips while she carried on sorting through her treasures, unmoved.

‘This is for you.'

She held out a shiny glass marble, shot through with shades of green and grey and brown, the same colours as Wyn's eyes. ‘Happy birthday, Emily.'

‘Thank you,' I replied, slipping the marble into my pocket and rubbing my sleeve across my wet cheeks. ‘Take care.'

‘Goodbye!' she called as I returned to the path. ‘Come play with me again soon!'

‘Hopefully not too soon,' I murmured as I ran.

With clear direction, I pushed onwards, only glancing over my shoulder when I heard a rushing sound at my back. The river had burst its banks. A king tide, just like the one on the night I was born. Water swept into the cemetery and washed away my footsteps, swallowing up all the concrete footpaths so no one could follow. But who would want to?

Soon, too soon, I arrived at the Bell family monument. The sombre grey block of marble was still topped by the angelic statue but the flat slab of concrete in front of it had been replaced by a stone staircase, descending into pitch-black nothingness. The grotto chapel.

‘Oh, Emily.' Catherine's voice echoed, disapproving, through the dark. ‘You didn't wear your gown.'

‘I'm sorry.' I looked down at my dirty jeans and blood-stained shirt. ‘There wasn't time to change.'

She stepped out from behind a neighbouring crypt, one that was much flashier than ours, adorned with crosses and bells and urns. Whoever was inside had done everything they could to buy salvation but I couldn't help but think they were trying too hard. The same could hardly be said for Catherine. She looked spectacular, wearing a white silk gown similar to the one she'd had made for me, her long hair shining scarlet.

‘Is Ashley still alive?' she asked.

‘Ashley is doing great,' I confirmed. ‘Getting out of the house has done her a world of good.'

The corner of her eye twitched and I took a bold step forward.

‘I'm not going to complete the Becoming, so if you're going to kill me, you might as well do it now.'

‘What makes you think I want to kill you?' She looked completely horrified at the thought. ‘Honey, the only thing I want in this world is for you to Become. I've dedicated the last seventeen years to this moment, killing you is the last thing I want to do.'

‘But you were happy to kill my dad,' I countered. ‘And my mom.'

Her eyes and the silver ceremonial dagger I saw in her hand both flashed with the same threat of violence.

‘I wouldn't say "happy" but I did what had to be done. It was all for you.'

Circling away from the staircase, I kept my distance from the monument and stayed close to the trees, their reassuring voices rushing around me.

‘You're sure about that? I think you might be doing it for yourself.'

Catherine weighed my question for a moment then shrugged. ‘I guess it's a little of both.'

Just like Ashley said, two things can be true.

‘I'm still not going through with the ceremony,' I declared. ‘I don't want to be a witch. I want to be normal.'

‘There's that heinous word again,' she sneered. ‘Normal. As if you've ever been normal, ever could be normal. Refusing to go through with the ceremony won't save you from anything, Emily, only destroy who you really are. Is that what you want? To kill a part of yourself?'

‘I don't know, I haven't had as much experience with killing as you have,' I replied. ‘But if it saves someone I love, then I'm OK with it.'

‘And what about the things I've done to save what I love?' she bellowed and the trees trembled. ‘The sacrifices I have made to protect you and this family? You will complete the ceremony, albeit in that ugly ensemble. Truly, I don't know why I tried so hard with you. The ugly accent, the lack of style, like trying to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.'

‘You can't make me do it,' I told her, the moss creeping up from the floor and wrapping around my ankles, not holding me down but lifting me up, giving me strength. ‘Without me, the magic dies, right? And you're just a regular old woman.'

She gasped. ‘Old? How dare you?'

Slowly but purposefully, she moved towards me. I could tell she didn't believe me. It wasn't conceivable to her, the idea that I would willingly surrender my connection to magic. Not when she was prepared to sacrifice her own son to secure it.

‘You've put us both in quite the predicament, honey.' Her voice was a musical sigh. ‘You could leave but if you don't complete the ceremony, you won't be able to save your friend or your wolf.'

‘Lydia is your best friend's granddaughter, how could you do this to her?' I asked, trying to distract her while I searched for Wyn's energy. He was somewhere nearby but I couldn't see exactly where. Something was blocking me. Wherever she had him hidden, he was in pain and his pulse was getting weaker.

‘It's amazing what you're capable of after you sacrifice the life of your beloved firstborn son,' Catherine replied, testing the tip of the knife with her pointer finger. ‘Ginny should thank me. That girl will be a lot less trouble now.'

‘You're not a witch, you're a monster.'

‘Speaking of monsters,' she replied with a wink, ‘it really was very helpful of you to have your wolf in the house last night so I could smarten up my Were-taming spell. Usually I don't allow dogs up on the furniture but we'll make an exception in his case.'

‘You knew he was in the house?' I was instantly angry at myself for sounding so surprised.

‘Emily, honey, I'm your grandmother and I'm a witch. A fly can't hiccup in my house without me knowing about it. Did you really think you could sneak around with a boy from a Were family and I wouldn't notice?' Catherine laughed but it wasn't a pleasant sound. ‘I've known since the very beginning. I didn't see any harm in letting it play out for a while. Your romantic walks, the trip to the beach. I almost drew a line at your sleepover but thankfully, you've got yourself a little gentleman there. At least he was raised right. Well, as much as a wolf can be.'

Around us, the trees began to creak and bend just as they had at Wormsloe, binding together in an impenetrable wall around me, Catherine, and the Bell monument, blocking out the rest of Bonaventure and keeping me in. Keeping her in with me.

Behind my grandmother was a towering stone archway. The one from my vision. I couldn't tell if the vines that decorated it from top to bottom were alive or carved into stone. Everything pulsed with the same dark energy, dead and alive. ‘He doesn't have a lot of time. If he phases while he's under my spell, well, let's just say it won't be pretty and it would be a shame to mess up that handsome face. With that in mind, shall we get this show on the road?'

Catherine stood firm, framed by the arch with the moon high above her, arms outstretched. ‘Emily Caroline James, do you accept the blessing as the blessing accepts you?'

Somewhere in the cemetery, I heard Wyn howl.

This was it, this was the moment. Leave and risk Wyn and Lydia's lives, Ashley would never be safe, or Jackson. Even without magic, Catherine would still be incredibly powerful, a rich, influential woman, and what would I be? A lonely orphan with nothing and no one. She would retain her place in the world but no one would miss me if I were to mysteriously disappear. Or I could stay and Become. Complete the ceremony, accept my magic and play Catherine at her own game.

I made my choice.

‘That's not my name,' I said, calmly stepping forward. ‘If we're going to do this, let's do it properly.'

‘I knew you wouldn't walk away,' Catherine whispered, glowing with victory. ‘Emma Catherine Bell, do you accept the blessing as the blessing accepts you?'

Breathing in, I stepped up to the arch and the sky filled with clouds. The rain came suddenly, pouring down from the sky, and when the lightning struck, it was so close, I could smell the singed grass. Once I passed through the archway, there would be no turning back.

‘I do,' I declared.

For Wyn, for Ashley, Lydia, Jackson, my mom and my dad. But most of all, for myself.

‘As the full moon represents wholeness and completion, we ask those who came before us to complete the Becoming and make our daughter whole,' Catherine intoned, dagger held high. ‘We ask those who came before us to bring her into the blessing. We ask those who came before us to offer her their strength and wisdom, and show her the path she must follow.'

The sound of the wind and the rain disappeared, engulfed by the dozens of voices that called to me, a siren song promising everything I'd ever wanted if I would just pass under the arch. I took one step, then another. On the threshold of the archway, I paused. On the other side, I saw Bonaventure not as it was now but how it used to be. Quieter and more beautiful, with fewer graves and more open space, birds and butterflies fluttering happily in the sky. The sun shone like it was the middle of the day and a tall, elegant woman with long red hair stepped into view, holding up a hand to beckon me forward. I couldn't see her face but I knew who she was.

It was me. Not as I was now but as I could be.

As I would be.

My future in Savannah's past.

I took the final step through the archway and the lightning stopped, the rain ended, the sky was clear again and every inch of my being was set aflame.

The Becoming had truly begun.

‘OK then!' my grandmother exclaimed with delight as I stepped down from the arch, stumbling back into the present day, already reeling with the new magic that flowed through my veins. ‘Now it's time for the fun part.'

Light hides the lies; truth lives in the dark.

I remembered my first warning as I followed Catherine down the stone staircase at the base of the Bell monument and into the grotto chapel, running my hands along the crumbling dry walls and feeling out each uneven step with the toe of my shoe before planting it down. It made sense now. All the lies I'd been told in the cold light of day while Catherine hid the truth in the dark of her craft room and down here, in the underground chapel. The way everything went black before I experienced a vision. Truth lives in the dark. The blessing had tried to tell me.

Every vine and flower in Bonaventure wanted to be close to me as my magic grew, and they followed me down, down, down until I reached the bottom of the stairs where they stopped dead, shrinking back from the darkness. I didn't blame them, I didn't want to be there either. Nothing could thrive down here, there was no chance of life, only reminders of death.

‘So, what do you think of the place?' Catherine asked, waving a proud hand around the chapel as she moved comfortably through the space. ‘As final resting places go, it's pretty swell.'

When she first described it, I'd pictured a small, claustrophobic space, packed full of decaying coffins, but this was one of the most magnificent things I'd ever seen. The chapel was lit by black-flamed candles and torches, and casket-sized spaces had been carved into the walls so our ancestors could rest comfortably in their polished coffins. There were two rows of wooden pews on the marble floor for living guests and small square cushions for more comfortable kneeling. At the far end of the short aisle, I saw an altar I recognized from my visions.

And in front of it stood my grandmother.

‘It really is something,' I said, one hand on the back of a pew to keep me upright as the change in me intensified. ‘Incredibly creepy vibes. It's giving ritualistic sacrifice. Not sure it sets the right tone for a birthday party.'

Catherine clucked her tongue.

‘I did try to spruce it up a little but you know how it is, there's only so much you can do with an underground chapel.'

‘Must be tough to schedule a cleaner,' I agreed, the blood in my veins burning. She had to know the pain was excruciating but I couldn't let her see my agony. ‘If only you'd let me know, I could have brought the vacuum with me.'

Apparently she wasn't in the mood for anyone's jokes but her own. The black flames of the candles guttered as Catherine turned back to the altar, lightly tapping the items she had up there, the same way my dad used to check for his phone, wallet, and car keys every time he left the house. A gold cup, a pile of herbs, some sparkling twine, the dagger from Wormsloe and her silver pin.

The same one I thought was safely hidden in my nightstand drawer.

The fire inside me continued to rage and I didn't know how much longer I could contain it. I was starting to doubt my decision. How could I overpower Catherine if I could barely stay up on my own two feet?

‘Are you ready, honey?' she asked, her voice soft and inviting.

‘Ready for what?' I replied, maintaining a safe distance between us as best I could. ‘Binding, Becoming or death?'

She laughed and shook her head. ‘No one is going to die, Emily. Well, the wolf might not make it but as I believe I mentioned once before, no one mourns a wolf.'

Her green eyes flicked to the front pew and a muted howling filled the chapel. At once the veil lifted and I felt him in the same moment I heard him. Ignoring my own pain, I rushed down the aisle, skidding to a stop where Wyn lay on the floor, writhing against the sharp, thin wire I'd seen on the altar. His skin was pasty and clammy, his ashy hair a dull rusty red and his sweat-and blood-soaked clothes clung to his body.

‘Whatever you're doing to him, make it stop,' I demanded, my trembling hands trying and failing to soothe his agony. ‘I'm here now, you've got what you wanted, you have to let him go.'

‘No, I don't think I will.' Catherine took a seat on a golden chair at the head of the altar and crossed her legs at the ankles. ‘It's not always easy, you know, doing the right thing. There are casualties, consequences. Not everyone will understand. For years I did my best to keep people happy, tried to be a good witch for my grandmother, a good wife, a good mother to Paul and Ashley, and look where that got me? Woman to woman, trying so hard all the time is exhausting.'

‘At least help me take off the barbed wire,' I begged, not even slightly interested in her reasoning. ‘It's killing him.'

‘That's because it's silver. Soaked in aconite. He must be in an unbelievable amount of pain,' she said with a heavy sigh. ‘Collecting wolfie here was the only fun part of my day. Took him a while to get wise, for a moment there I thought he might just walk himself right here. He's a good dog, very obedient, but what was it my mother used to say? Don't fight unless you have to but when you do, fight like you're the third monkey on the ramp to Noah's ark and it's starting to sprinkle. That boy felt it sprinkling just a little too late. I haven't had a good fight in years but he sure gave me one.'

‘I'm so sorry,' I murmured into Wyn's ear but I couldn't tell if he could hear me. Holding my hands against his heart, I could feel his pain but he didn't even have the strength left to scream. Every time he moved, the silver barbs cut into his bloodless skin, pushing the aconite she'd laced it with deeper and deeper, torturing him from within.

‘I do see the attraction, Emily, he loves you very much. If it weren't for the fact he's wrapped in silver wire and dosed up with enough aconite to put down a bull elephant, that boy would still be fighting for you, I guarantee it.' She picked up the silver pin and pressed the point into the tip of her finger. ‘Since you took his brother out with this so very easily, I brought it along just in case he gave us any trouble, but I don't think we'll need it, do you?'

I reached into my pocket, the little girl's glass marble still there, and pulled out a pouch of herbs Ashley had pressed into my hand on my way out the Powell house. Yarrow, mugwort, and rue. Courage, protection, and self-belief. I opened the pouch and emptied it into Wyn's palm, rubbing the dried flowers into his hands. He needed them more than I did.

‘If we removed the silver and allowed him to phase, he would heal right away,' I heard Catherine say. ‘The only drawback to that plan is that he wouldn't recognize you once he was a wolf, most likely he'd rip your throat out. You should keep hold of the pin, just in case.'

She held it out but I didn't take it.

‘You're sure? An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of the cure. Not that there is a cure for having your throat ripped out.'

‘You must love to see people suffer,' I said, ignoring my own pain as Wyn convulsed beside me. ‘This is inhuman.'

‘Says the girl who is in love with a wolf,' Catherine snapped back.

Wyn groaned and a worrying wet gurgle emerged from the back of his throat. The dried herbs weren't going to be enough, I needed something more, something alive, but nothing could grow down here in the dark, dank chapel.

‘You were the one, Emily. You were destined to bring back our sisters, dig the blessing out of the dark, but I see it now. You can't be trusted. Our family, my family , has protected this magic for centuries and I'm expected to hand it over to a girl who is perfectly happy to set that legacy on fire for an animal? After all the sacrifices I made to bring you here? I don't think so, honey.'

‘You didn't sacrifice anything,' I yelled back, turning to face her with fierce eyes. ‘My parents are the ones who paid with their lives.'

‘I loved my son,' she roared, full of pain and rage. ‘Paul left me no choice. Losing him was my sacrifice, taking his life almost killed me in more ways than one. I almost died to bring you here.'

I forced out a cruel laugh.

‘And that would have been a real shame.'

‘The mouth on you. Just like your mother,' Catherine said scornfully as I pushed my hair away from my face, my hastily tied ponytail coming loose. ‘If you weren't in Savannah right this very second, your magic would have passed, taking mine along with it. Your father should have been proud to call you a witch but instead he hid you away, denying who and what you are. What was I supposed to do, betray our ancestors? Let the line die?'

‘Yes,' I replied, scouring the chapel floor for something that might help Wyn. He was fading fast and I didn't dare leave his side. ‘Nothing lasts forever, maybe it was time. Maybe our magic was supposed to end.'

‘And that's how I know you do not deserve it.'

Catherine rose from her chair and raised her arms. At the other end of the aisle, a sheet of rock slammed down from the ceiling, sealing us all inside. ‘You don't understand. Selfish, just like the rest of your generation. No concept of making a sacrifice for the greater good.'

Above us, I felt the moon rise to its highest peak and fire scorched every cell in my body from the inside out. My limbs seized up and I collapsed on the floor beside Wyn.

‘I should have told you this part can sting,' Catherine said, her words far away, crackling through a different channel than the one I was tuned in to. ‘After a witch passes through the archway and the moon is at its peak, she is more vulnerable until the exchange of blood. As I recall, it burns a little. Mostly the exchange occurs right away but I thought this might do you some good. Spare the rod, spoil the child as they say. Try not to fight, it'll be over soon and you won't feel anything much at all.'

Not even the marble floor of the chapel could cool me. I'd never known pain like it, the heat scalding my skin like I'd been tossed in a pot of boiling oil, and melting my insides at the same time.

‘Once we exchange blood, the Becoming will be complete and I will be forced to resolve this issue. I wish things had been different, Emily, I really do. Today should've been a celebration.'

Helpless and overwhelmed, I was only able to keep my eyes open for a second but a second was enough. There was a crack in the wall, then the smallest possible split in the stone, and a single tendril of Spanish moss pushed its way through and crept along the ground towards me.

‘What happens next?' I forced the words out of my bone dry throat, fighting off the excruciating pain one agonizing breath at a time. The moss was moving at such a slow pace, I had to give it a chance. I needed more time. ‘If you try to bind me, I'll drain you.'

‘No, you won't. Not unless you want me to end your boy's suffering right now,' Catherine said. ‘I can end Lydia's life also, if you would prefer.'

Focusing only on the moss and not the horror of her threats, I said nothing.

‘It won't be enough to simply bind you. You're already so strong, I can't begin to imagine what strength you'll have after the ritual is complete. Too much for anything so basic. Luckily, I found something else inspired by our friend Elizabeth Howell. When her sisters tried to bind her, she was too strong to be contained, but I believe, if I combine the binding and draining spells, things will go just fine. For me, anyway. How does that sound?'

‘Not great,' I answered with a grunt.

‘No, I suspect it won't be.' She stood to set the pin back on the altar. ‘You can't return to Bell House, it would never approve of what I'm about to do, so I'll keep you down here where you'll be safe – not dead but it's no real life – and drain your magic back into me over time rather than all at once. Kind of a slow drip, nice and steady. That should avoid any combustible side effects. Perhaps one day, a long time from now, we'll revisit our arrangement. I can't say for sure what impact draining your magic will have on your mental capacity but I imagine you'll be more, shall we say, compliant?'

I reached one more time but the moss was still beyond my grasp. With a sob of despair, I twisted around onto my back and looked up. In my delirium, I could see through the stone ceiling and up into the sky. The moon shone brighter than any sun and I felt its cool, soothing power against my scalding skin. Then, something soft and feathery brushed against my fingers and the furnace inside me flared again. The Spanish moss.

‘Catherine, I'm sorry,' I said, fighting for time as Wyn's breathing made a sharp and erratic shift. The moss wound itself around my hand, circling my wrist and creeping up my arm. A shot of adrenaline cut straight through my pain, sharp as steel. ‘You were right, I was wrong. The magic is the only thing that matters, I get it now. Don't you think I've learned my lesson?'

‘Don't you think I've learned mine?' she snapped. ‘Actions speak louder than words, young lady, and yours cannot be trusted. This is the only way.'

As she busied herself at the altar, I forced myself to move, shuffling around to the other side of Wyn's broken body. Vines snaked around me, reviving and renewing, lending me their resilience. Above ground, the full moon set Bonaventure alight, but not with the black flames I'd foreseen. Every leaf on every tree curled in my direction and all the Spanish moss in Savannah burned with a brilliant white light, and all of that light poured into this chapel, through my body and into Wyn.

‘I'd love to say it won't hurt,' Catherine said with her back to me, full of regret as she took inventory of her supplies. ‘But that would be a lie. The herbs alone aren't exactly friendly. Belladonna, snap dragon, fly agaric …'

Wyn's screams tore through the chapel as I touched one finger to the silver that bound him. The vines knew what to do. They wended their way over to him, slipping between the wire and his wounds, creating space for him to breathe. I pulled at the loosened barbs, shredding the skin on my hands and silently screaming with this new agony. Wyn's screams were not so quiet. As soon as the last silver barb was removed, the phase began. I turned away, unable to bear the pain in his face. When I looked back, the pain was gone and so was Wyn.

All that remained was the wolf.

‘I added a little lily of the valley to the spell to help put you to sleep,' Catherine called as his new mouth stretched into a snarl. ‘But I don't know what good it will do. Didn't seem to help your boy any.'

‘I don't know,' I replied, crawling backwards down the aisle. ‘I think he's doing better.'

The wolf let out a howl vicious enough to tear the fabric of my reality in two.

Before and after.

‘You little fool,' Catherine hissed, stumbling in her rush to get behind the altar. ‘You've trapped us in here with a male Were in its first phase? That's not your boy anymore, it's an animal! It doesn't recognize you, all it knows is how badly it wants to kill you.'

‘Better him than you.' I held my hands out in front of me, the moss that had freed Wyn wrapping around my body. ‘If he kills me, at least this is all over.'

Wyn the wolf reared back, his claws scuffling against the smooth marble, struggling to gain purchase. His fur was golden but his eyes were the same, green and grey, the same colour as the Spanish moss. He might not recognize me but I would have known him anywhere. My Wyn was still in there.

Hiding behind the altar, Catherine scrabbled for something to defend herself with but Wyn wasn't concerned with her. He stood facing me, his lip curled up to reveal the threat of his razor-sharp teeth as he deliberated his next move.

‘Wyn,' I said, clear but kind. ‘It's me, Em.'

He replied with uncertain growls, still getting to grips with his transformation, feeling his way around his new body.

‘You're not going to hurt me,' I told him, taking one very small and careful step closer. ‘And I'm going to get you out of here.'

‘No,' Catherine said, suddenly right behind him. ‘You're not.'

Everything that happened next was a blur.

I saw the dagger in her hand but there wasn't enough time to react. The blade came down fast, sinking into Wyn's shoulder, right up to the hilt. He howled, a soul-splitting sound, and reared back on his hind legs, knocking me to the ground with his left front paw and giving my grandmother the opportunity she needed.

‘Catherine, no!'

I screamed as she lunged at him, holding the silver pin in her other hand and driving it deep into his chest. He careened backwards, howling with fear and confusion, then crashed into the row of pews, leaving nothing more than splinters. Then he was still. Breathing, just barely, but completely still. I tried to go to him but I couldn't move, my strength ebbing away somehow. I looked down to see the front of my shirt sliced open, a strange new feeling pulsing through my body, hot then cold. It wasn't just Ashley's blood that stained my shirt anymore. Four clean gashes opened up my belly and painted me ruby red.

‘Emily,' Catherine gasped, lurching towards me with absolute terror in her eyes. ‘Emily, no.'

‘He didn't mean to,' I said, woozy and lightheaded as I grasped my mom's locket.

‘We've got to stop the bleeding,' my grandmother rambled as my eyes fluttered open and closed. ‘You cannot die. Let me think, stay with me, just let me think.'

But it was difficult to make promises as the edges of my vision began to blur, my blood almost black against the white marble of the floor. Catherine scurried around, gathering piles of moss from the ground to staunch the blood flowing from my stomach, but as soon as it registered her touch, the moss withered away to dust. In a daze, I watched her scuttle back to the altar, searching through the objects and herbs, tears pouring down her face, while she searched for something that might help.

‘We can do it together if we concentrate,' she said, nodding her head as she gathered the supplies. ‘You did it for Ashley, we can do it for you.'

‘This isn't the same, you can't stop it.' My words were losing shape as the light dimmed. I thought it would take longer to bleed out. I was wrong.

‘Not alone but we can together. You are a Bell witch, Emily, and you are too strong to be killed by some wolf.'

‘A knife can be a weapon or a tool,' I croaked with Catherine back by my side. ‘You thought Wyn was a tool but you made him a weapon.'

She carried on regardless, tearing strips of fabric from the bottom of her dress and wrapping them tightly around my middle. ‘Not like this, it's not going to end like this,' she muttered, holding my chin in her hand and forcing me to look at her. ‘There is one last thing we can try. Whatever it takes to keep the blessing alive.'

Leaving my side just long enough to crawl over to Wyn, she reached across his trembling, prone wolf-form. Her pin had already dislodged itself, sparkling on the floor in a pool of his blood, and the sound he made when she wrenched the dagger out of his shoulder cracked a hole in the marble at the entrance of the chapel.

‘Taking someone's life is easier when you don't have to look them in the eye,' she confessed, returning to me with the dagger in her hand. ‘Maybe if I give you mine, you'll be able to forgive me someday.'

‘Catherine, don't,' I begged, understanding what she meant only when it was too late.

‘We ask those who came before us to bring her into the blessing,' screamed my grandmother, demanding the attention of our ancestors. ‘As whole as the moon, she will Become.'

She wiped the silver blade on her skirt then held it out in front of me, determination on her face as she slashed her own palm with only the slightest intake of breath, and when she pressed her hand to my stomach, mixing her blood with mine, I felt the fire reignite inside me. The final step in the ceremony. The sudden spark caught onto every fibre of my being and ignited. All the things I'd glimpsed through the open door at my Wilcuma poured into me, all the knowledge, all the history, all the magic. Every Bell witch who had ever lived, everything they'd ever experienced, now existed in me.

The Becoming was complete.

But Catherine wasn't done.

‘Take from me,' she ordered, making another deeper cut in her hand. This time I could tell that it hurt. ‘What is needed is offered freely. Take from me. Drēahnian .'

My blood ran white hot, lava flowing through me like I was the earth's core, molten metal made flesh, but it was too much, too strong. The dried Spanish moss on the floor of the chapel began to smoulder before bursting into black flames with white hearts. The fire raced along the ground, searching for an escape. I looked around, Catherine broken and bloody, the wolf, the black candles. This was it. The beginning of the end.

‘You have to stop, you have to let me go,' I commanded, the fire spreading through the chapel with supernatural speed. ‘I can't control it.'

Catherine shook her head. She collapsed to the ground at the side of me, no strength left to fight.

‘Then let it burn.'

‘If we burn, everything burns,' I argued as the flames danced around us. I felt stronger but not strong enough. ‘If we don't do something, it will destroy the city.'

‘Maybe it's time.' Catherine touched her bloody hand to my heart, staring into my eyes. ‘I've done terrible things to keep this magic alive and at what cost? Every time I think I've done enough, sacrificed enough, I have to give more. Your mother and father's lives, Ashley's freedom, my own blood, and now you? I can't do this anymore. You were right, all things must end.'

‘But not yet.'

Another voice. Another person. Over Catherine's shoulder, I saw the white-haired woman who had haunted me since I arrived in Savannah, only her hair wasn't white anymore, it was bright red, and her eyes shone like emeralds. Behind her, a dozen or more women, all red-haired, all green-eyed, looked down at me with love.

‘It is time for a change but not an ending,' the very first Emma Catherine Bell told my grandmother, pulling her from me as my bleeding slowed then stopped altogether. ‘You can let go. She is stronger than any of us.'

I pushed the makeshift bandages away from my stomach and saw the flesh knitting itself back together, just like the orchid. Choking on the rising smoke from the black fire as it raged on, I stared up at my ancestor.

‘Are you doing this?' I asked. ‘Or am I?'

‘We do everything as one,' she replied and the other women bowed their heads. ‘What's more important is what you do next. What will you decide, Emily?'

The altar had already disappeared behind a cloud of smoke and my eyes were stinging, lungs screaming out for oxygen I could not find.

‘It's not my decision if I don't know how to stop it,' I told her. ‘But I don't want this.'

‘All you have to do is make the choice. Stop trying and know it is done.' She paused and touched her hand to my face. ‘Find your peace.'

I knew what I had to do.

Rolling over, I winced as I crawled through the fire, the flames licking at me but leaving me unharmed as I made my way across the chapel floor. Wyn lay helpless, a heaving mound of blood and fur. I picked up one of his paws and brought it to my lips, the horror of the things I'd seen in my visions snapping at the edges of my consciousness. All of the destruction and decay, me at the heart of it, Wyn and Catherine in the flames. But I didn't have to accept someone else's version of my destiny. Blind faith made Catherine equally strong and dangerous. I would not follow a path that no longer served us simply because someone who died centuries before I was born said I should. Wrapping my hand around wolf-Wyn's sharp claws, I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing, relaxing into the peace only he could give me.

Everything went quiet as I fell away into the nowhere space.

This time the vision was different. I was still surrounded by black flames on every side, Catherine was still bleeding on the altar. But this time, the wolf stood by my side and behind us there were dozens of other women, all of them vibrant with magic. What we were facing wasn't clear yet but the message was that when the time came, I wouldn't be alone.

Something soft and cold fluttered onto my face, bringing me back from the vision as it smothered the flames. Snow. It was snowing inside the chapel. As the wolf's paw shifted back into Wyn's hand, his fingers curled around mine and at once, the black fires burned out.

‘We weren't able to speak freely before your Becoming,' Emma Catherine Bell said as I fell on Wyn, pressing my lips to his forehead as he moaned, still not entirely conscious. ‘It will be easier now we're connected.'

‘My visions,' I replied, almost oblivious to the miracle falling from the ceiling, too busy watching Wyn. ‘All those things I saw. They could still happen?'

‘The prophecy has not come to pass,' my ancestor confirmed. ‘Perhaps, at one time, what you saw could have been your Becoming but you changed that. You made a choice that set us on another path.'

‘A better one?' I asked with hope.

‘A different one,' she offered. ‘You will not be able to turn back from it now but we will be with you. Our actions are entwined, everything you do and everything we ever did now lives in you.'

All of her descendants stepped forward to surround Catherine as she turned her attention to my stunned and silent grandmother. ‘And it is with great sadness that we do this.'

They swarmed around Catherine until she was completely hidden from my view and the ground beneath us quaked with her fear. The scream that filled the chapel was as agonizing as anything that happened before or after. Then all her panic faded away. I couldn't feel her anymore. When the spirits pulled away, my grandmother's body lay on the floor, eyes closed and smiling.

‘Is she … gone?' I asked the first Bell witch as the others moved to line the walls of the chapel, each standing sentry by their own casket.

Emma Catherine Bell ran her hands over my hair. My breath hitched in my throat as I saw it turn from reddish-brown to scarlet, her ancient magic passing through me. I was truly whole, truly who I was meant to be.

‘Catherine isn't dead,' she said. ‘Your grandmother has her own choice to make.'

Holding on to the rough stone wall, I staggered over to where she lay. She looked more peaceful than I had ever seen her. Serene. She was still there but too far away for me to reach.

‘For a long time, she truly believed she was doing the right thing,' Emma Catherine told me, standing by my side. ‘We can tell ourselves the most powerful lies when we're afraid of the truth but no good will come of it. Don't let the same thing happen to you. Live in the truth, Emily.'

I followed her gaze over to Wyn, returned to human form and panting in the wreckage of the pews.

‘It's not that I want to lie,' I said, fresh tears dampening my smoke-dry eyes. ‘But I'm afraid of what will happen when I tell him the truth.'

Her face was sorrowful but unrepentant. ‘Betraying someone to protect them never ends well. You know that already.'

She looked over to the stairs that led out of the chapel and up to the cemetery, all the rubble and fallen marble disappeared. ‘You need to go. Bell House will help heal you, both of you. Your friend, Lydia, too. Do you still have the black crystal you found in Colonial Park?'

‘Yes,' I nodded, wiping away my tears with the backs of my wrists. ‘Is that what made her forget the vision?'

‘Arfvedstonite, yes. That's why I gave it to you,' she replied. ‘Keep it close, you'll need it again someday soon.'

Every Bell witch that ever was watched on as I helped a dazed Wyn up the staircase, out the chapel. The cemetery was achingly beautiful, refreshed by the king tide that ebbed slowly back to the river, back where it belonged. Even though it was still hours until the dawn, every bird sang its sweetest song, backed by the rhythm of the cicadas, while the butterflies and moths danced in silhouette against a glorious full moon. Every tree and flower and plant was in full bloom. I stood for a moment and let it all sink in. Fire still burned inside me but now it was tempered by the soothing moonlight, light and dark. A balance.

I stumbled back down into the chapel, stooping to pick up my grandmother's pin when it flashed at me from the floor and slipped it back into my pocket. Then I froze. All the damage, the crushed pews, the cracked marble floor, it had all been restored. The herbs on the altar, a bundle of blood-stained silver wire, and the ceremonial dagger lying in the middle of the aisle the only evidence we'd ever been here. There was no other trace of anyone, living or dead, having set foot in this chapel this evening.

‘Catherine?' I called into the empty space as the candles extinguished themselves one by one. ‘Emma?'

My grandmother, and all the ghosts, were gone.