Chapter 27

Chapter 27

J ulie selected August 13 as the best day for the examination. It was later than I’d hoped—and my birthday.

“I still don’t think I should have to take a test on my birthday,” I said, opening the card she’d given me to mark the occasion. It was Naomi’s birthday, too, and I couldn’t help but think of her experience on the Dark Path.

“What could be better?” Julie replied, pleased with this obvious sign from the goddess. “Everybody needs a cake and sparklers after they finish their MAT.”

The Magical Aptitude Test, I learned, was a far more exciting milestone for witch children than a visit from the tooth fairy. Not everyone shared this view, however. Matthew had been a bear all morning, growling at every perceived slight or hint of rudeness.

“My toe aches and I dreamed of a vulture last night,” Sarah said, clomping into the kitchen in search of coffee. “It circled over Ravenswood, hissing. I think it’s a bad omen.”

I had already consulted the black bird oracle this morning and held up the Quintessence card so Sarah could seeit.

“The fifth element. Not a vulture in sight.”

Pip was toying with his oatmeal spoon, just as unhappy as Sarah with our plans for the day.

“It’s not fair. Why do I have to take a test? Why can’t we be like other kids? Why do you two have to be such professors ?”

“It won’t take much time,” I assured him, even though I had no idea how long the twins’ ordeal would be. My mother’s memories of my examination pressed on my heart, and my anxiety rose.

“Tamsy said the same thing, Pip,” Becca told her brother, doling out some of her blueberries for the doll.

“How does she know?” Pip demanded, glowering at his sister’s companion.

“Tamsy does her cards every morning, just like Mommy,” Becca said. “Today the card was a puffy cloud in a blue sky with a big yellow sun. You know how sunny days are always better, and they go by more quickly than when it rains?”

“Ohh.” Pip looked impressed. “Is ’Nando coming?”

“No,” I said with a laugh. “A witch is coming, but I don’t know who. It’s a surprise.”

Without the prospect of their uncle ’Nando showing up, the children scampered off to the barn to play with Granny Dorcas and the spell-looms. I went back to my own worries over whether Tinima or Sidonie would be proctoring the exam.

Matthew brought me a pot of tea and my oatmeal. He searched my face for clues about how I was doing. I laid my palm against his cheek.

“I just want this over with,” I said.

“Soon, mon coeur, ” Matthew replied.

—

There was one last thing I wanted to do before the witches’ representative arrived. I asked Gwyneth if she would join me in the Ravens’ Wood.

My aunt agreed without question. Sarah would have peppered me for more details, but Gwyneth was content to put her arm around my elbow and let me help her into the wood’s green coolness.

We reached the Crossroads. It seemed a lifetime since Meg had issued her challenge.

“Can you teach me how to cast a circle to summon a spirit?” I asked Gwyneth.

“Yes,” Gwyneth replied. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to. What are you up to, Diana?”

I pulled a memory bottle out of my pocket.

“I want to give these back to Naomi. I know I’m not supposed to tell you what happened at the Crossroads in any detail, but I met her shade here, when I faced Meg, and she had a hole in the center of her chest.” I pressed my hand against my sternum, where my aunt’s wound had been.

“I intended to patch it,” I continued, “but Naomi wanted an end to her suffering. I wove the tenth knot—the knot of creation and destruction—and released her from Elsewhere. I’d hoped she would return as a ghost, but I didn’t see her at Midsummer.”

Naomi materialized from the trees, apparating from the dark hollow in an old oak without any help from me or Gwyneth. She was no longer the eerie wraith she had been as a shade, but she was not as clearly delineated as most Proctor ghosts. Naomi’s hands were crossed protectively over a dark depression near her heart that was not fully healed.

“Naomi?” Gwyneth whispered.

Hi, Aunt Gwyneth. Naomi waved. Long time, no see.

For a moment Gwyneth’s joy was strong enough to push back the Darkness that still lingered around her niece.

“I brought your memories from Venice,” I told my father’s sister. “Where should I put them?”

Where they belong, Naomi replied, opening her hands so that we could see the place behind her ribs that was still waiting to be filled.

With Gwyneth’s help, I released Naomi’s memories. For a moment, Darkness threatened to engulf the fragile ghost and we lost sight of her. Shadow tipped the balance in the end, and Naomi emerged more substantial than ever.

Thank you for making me whole, Naomi said, her voice breaking on the last word. I’d lost hope, and couldn’t imagine a witch who could work such magic.

It would take months—perhaps years—for Naomi to fully integrate with her memories. They were visible beneath her skin, swirling and shimmering just like the words of the Book of Life moved withinme.

“We should go,” I told Gwyneth, mindful of the time.

Be sure to come back, Naomi said, wistful at our departure.

—

Gwyneth and I emerged from the wood with lighter hearts. Then I saw who was waiting for me on the bench underneath the witch’s tree, and Light turned to Darkness.

“Hello, Diana.”

“Satu.” I stifled my instinct to scream in warning, knowing that Matthew would hear me no matter how quietly I spoke. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here for you, of course.” Satu stood, her platinum pixie and pale skin gleaming in the summer sun. “And your children.”

Gwyneth had been right. Satu was no longer spellbound. My attempt had been impassioned, but lacked the skill that would have kept the bindings on her magic in place. And my efforts to curb her powers had backfired spectacularly. It felt like they had increased, the air between us electric.

Matthew burst out of the farmhouse, his eyes pinned to the ridge.

“Could you find the children?” I asked Gwyneth, though I was really speaking to Matthew. “I think they’re in the barn with Sarah and Granny Dorcas.”

“If so, they have no need of me at present,” Gwyneth said, her eyes steely. “Miss J?rvinen. How unexpected.”

“Really, Miss Proctor?” Satu replied. “Has the gift of prophecy been taken from you? I’m surprised, knowing the strong tradition of oracles in your family. Diana has always had a touch of the oracle about her. I knew it the first time we met.”

A slight twist of Gwyneth’s fourth finger suggested that she had triggered some alarm. Hopefully it would alert the coven that something was wrong at Ravenswood.

“Our high priestess isn’t due for another hour,” Gwyneth said.

“My flight was early,” Satu said with a mocking smile. “Tailwinds over the Atlantic.”

Matthew had joined us, which meant the children were indeed safely in the barn.

“I told you it wouldn’t be Sidonie.” I glanced over my shoulder, wanting to make eye contact with Matthew. “You owe me five dollars.”

“Poor Sidonie has been under so much pressure since Janet’s abrupt departure and the unexpected vacancy on the Congregation,” Satu said, her voice silky. “My name was at the top of the list of replacements, and I was happy to be of service.”

I should have looked for Satu’s bottle when I was in Venice. But it had never occurred to me that she might still pose a threat, not even after Gwyneth’s warning.

Matthew placed his hand on the small of my back, close to where Satu had branded me with his family seal as a reminder that I was tainted by my association with vampires. The scars were a lasting symbol of Satu’s cold-bloodedness. My courage, which had been wavering, revived.

“I’ve already notified the Congregation that your appearance here is unacceptable, after your violence toward Diana,” Matthew said. “They’ll have to send someone else to examine her and the children.”

Satu’s laugh was as brilliant and brittle as Griselda Gowdie’s memory bottle.

“This is an internal matter, Matthew. The other members of the Congregation have no jurisdiction over the affairs of witches.” Satu’s smug expression left little doubt that Tinima and Sidonie were aware of what Satu had done to me in the past, and had sent her here anyway.

“It’s okay,” I said, putting my hand on his arm. “She can’t do anything to me or the children.”

“That’s right, Diana. Ravenswood protects its own.” Gwyneth fixed a basilisk stare on her visitor. “You’re on Proctor land, Satu. There are forces here that are beyond even the reach of higher magic.”

“I’ll be careful,” Satu replied with a twisted smile.

A howling wind of protest swirled past my shoulders and nearly flattened Satu.

“Be more careful,” Gwyneth said. “That’s the last warning you’ll get.”

“No harm will befall Diana or the children. Today.” Satu paused long enough to give her words a malicious shimmer. “Today is all about ticking the boxes so that there are no questions later. Shall we get started?”

“Follow me,” Gwyneth said, directing Satu toward the Old Place.

I took Matthew’s hand and pulled him in the direction of the barn, away from Satu’s veiled threats, and toward our children.

“How did your oracle not foresee this ?” Matthew snarled in fury.

“We’ll deal with the intelligence failures later,” I said, taking his face in my hands. “Right now, I want the children with us and their examination in the rearview mirror.”

Matthew drew a shuddering breath, gathering his composure. His eyes were stormy but not yet fully black. Matthew was in control of his blood rage—for now. He nodded.

When we entered the barn, Sarah was ready to fight—not with magic but with Granny Dorcas’s favorite fire poker. She dropped it with a clatter.

“It’s time for your test,” Sarah told the twins brightly. “Who wants to hold my hand? I hate tests. I was terrible at them.”

“Me, too,” Pip moaned.

“I like tests,” Becca said, slipping her hand into mine. Something warm and sharp bit into my flesh.

“You’re wearing your ring,” I said, looking down at her fingers.

“Tamsy told me I have to wear it from now on,” Becca explained. “She told me it belonged to a great witch and that I would be a great witch one day, too.”

Thank you, Tamsin Proctor, I said silently. For the first time since my ancestor’s spirit took possession of my daughter’s toy, I was grateful. Tituba’s ring retained some of her power, and Emily’s ancestor would be with Becca when she faced Satu.

In the end, we all held hands as we crossed the green expanse of grass and flower beds between Orchard Farm and the Old Place.

When we reached Gwyneth’s house, Sarah let go of Pip’s hand. “There you go, squirt. Your mom will take you and your sister inside. There isn’t room for your dad and me in Gwyneth’s poky front parlor. We’ll wait for you out here.”

Matthew was surprised. “I’m going—”

“No, you’re not,” Sarah said firmly. “Everybody needs to focus, right? We don’t want to distract anybody.”

I thanked the goddess for Sarah’s unusual restraint. Rather than adding to the tension, she found a way to remind Matthew he had an important role to play in today’s proceedings.

Reluctantly, Matthew nodded.

“Who wants to go first?” I asked the twins.

“ME!” Pip and Becca shot their hands in the air and shouted in unison.

“Ladies first,” Pip said with a little bow to his sister.

“No, Pip.” Becca took her brother’s hand. “We’ll do it together.”

I took Pip’s other hand and cast one final look at Matthew.

Matthew traced a cross in the air betweenus.

“ Angele Dei, qui custos es mei, ” he murmured. “ Me tibi commissum pietate superna; Hodie illumina, custodi, rege, et guberna. ”

Pip and Becca both recognized this ancient prayer to one’s guardian angel immediately, as did I. Matthew had taught it to the twins as soon as they could speak, and both children repeated it whenever they felt uncertain or distressed.

“Amen,” Pip said in response.

“Catch you on the flip side, Daddy,” Becca said, adding my father’s favorite farewell to the litany.

—

Satu and Gwyneth sat in silence in the keeping room. The rest of the witches present had plenty to say, however.

That despicable hag has no business being here! Granny Dorcas said, shaking a frying pan. Pallid creature. And her skills are shockingly crude.

Better we smoke her out, Granny Dorcas, than mount a frontal attack with kitchen equipment. Grandpa Tally was propped against the fireplace, his eyes glued to Satu with deadly intent.

This witch from the north is not a great lover of books, Granny Alice said with a sniff. No wonder her knots lack structure. There’s barely enough gramarye to hold them together. She needs to acquaint herself with more disciplined prose.

Naomi was here, too.

Darkness always recognizes its own kind, she said, her hair sparking. I felt her presence at once.

“Who is she?” Becca whispered, hanging on to my hand as we entered the keeping room.

“I am Satu J?rvinen. I’ve come to do some spells with you.” Satu smiled in a vain attempt to look less terrifying.

“Not you.” Becca frowned. “That lady there, with the sparkly bottle where her heart should be.”

“That’s your aunt Naomi,” I said. “Grandpa Stephen’s twin sister.”

“Grandpa was a twin? Coo-el,” Pip said, his anxiety surrounding tests temporarily alleviated. It soon returned. “What kind of spells?”

“All kinds,” Satu said.

Hopefully these would not include timewalking, flying, or any other use of magic that might cause Pip to disappear and not be seen or heard from again.

“My spells don’t always work the way they’re supposed to,” Pip confessed, glum about his future prospects.

“How marvelous for you. Let’s see if we can figure out why.” Satu pointed to a vase holding the last of the summer roses. The blooms were past their prime, and mottled with brown spots. “See if you can make one of those wilted flowers come back to life, Philip.”

Pip screwed up his face in concentration. A quiet glow appeared around him, as it usually did when he was focused on casting a spell. He murmured a few words.

The flowers disappeared.

“Where did they go?” Becca wondered, searching for the vase.

Pip shrugged, his cheeks pink with embarassment.

“I think they’re in the meadow.” I pointed through the window to where single roses were sprouting out of the grass like dandelions. Pip had not only restored the flowers to life, but to the ground as well.

“Clever boy.” Satu made a note in her leather-bound journal. “You’ve got a lot of earth magic in you, Philip. It’s so warm today. Can you make a gentle breeze to cool us down?”

“Gentle,” I emphasized, thinking of the state of the clapboards.

More confident now, Pip muttered something unintelligible and waved his hand in the air.

A whoosh of wind blew down the keeping room chimney, along with a soot-covered Apollo. He stood on unsteady lion’s paws and spat out a mouthful of ashes.

The sight of a blackened griffin didn’t faze Satu.

“Looks like your chimney needs a good cleaning, Miss Proctor,” Satu said. “Air, too, I see. How about we try—”

“Not fire,” I said firmly. “The house is a national treasure.”

Satu frowned at my interruption. “Yes, fire. Can you light the candle on the mantel, Philip?”

“Sure!” Pip said, tripping over his familiar to reach the fireplace. He puffed on the nearest candle wick.

The ornamental birch logs in the grate burst into roaring flame.

“Oops,” Pip said, giving Gwyneth a lopsided grin. “Sorry, Aunt Gwyneth.”

“You kept the fire in the fireplace this time,” my aunt said, beaming at him. “Well done, Pip.”

“And fire.” Satu made another note.

“Like Mommy,” Pip replied. “She can shoot a fire arrow.”

“Yes, I know,” Satu murmured. “Can you empty the water from the glass on the table without touching it?”

I closed my eyes and prayed that Pip would not cause a tsunami that would require coastal evacuations.

Pip stood in front of the table and concentrated on the glass of water. It lifted from the table’s surface, wobbled a bit in the air, then tipped its contents over the African violet sitting on a doily. The glass landed on the table with a thud.

Becca clapped. “You did it, Pip!”

I opened my arms to give my son a hug.

“You were magnificent,” I told him, smoothing the piece of blond hair that had fallen into his eyes.

“There’s just one more test, Philip,” Satu said. “Come stand in front of me.”

Pip did so, although he kept a prudent distance between himself and this strange witch.

“I want you to close your eyes,” Satu said. “What’s the first thing you see?”

“A gray cat.” Pip had been asking for a cat all summer, and intended to call it Spike after Chris’s favorite character in Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

“Can you invite the cat to join you, Pip?” Satu asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Is this really necessary, Satu?” I pointed to Apollo. “You’ve seen his familiar.”

“Don’t interfere again, or I’ll have to ask you to leave,” Satu warned. She would do it, too.

Pip concentrated, screwing his eyes shut. He cracked one open. “Is Spike here?”

“Not yet,” Satu said. “Ask him nicely.”

Pip pressed his lips together and lowered his eyelids.

Nothing.

Pip stomped his foot impatiently, and the floorboards shook at the impact. “Come here this minute, Spike!”

“Spike must not be available,” Satu said. “Thank you for trying, Philip.”

Pip’s face fell in disappointment. He opened his eyes and turned to me. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all,” I said.

“You are a very talented witch, Philip.” Satu made a few more notes in her book. My fingers itched to snatch it from her, so that I could see what they said.

He smiled and turned to his sister. “Your turn, Becca.”

“That’s it?” I was blank with astonishment. Where was the pain? The threats? The sense of violation? Satu’s examination was nothing like what I remembered from my encounter with Peter Knox, or my mother’s memories, either. Mom had been angry at Dad for allowing Peter to proceed with his unorthodox methods, but I hadn’t understood how different my experience had been.

“What were you expecting?” Satu asked, genuinely curious.

I smothered my fractured memories of Knox’s visit to Cambridge, not wanting Satu or the children to see my distress.

Becca shot me a nervous look, which suggested she had, as usual, picked up on my emotional turmoil.

“You’ll be fine,” I said, plastering a wide smile on my face.

“It’s not hard, Becca,” Pip said, taking his sister by the hand. “ Courage. ”

With her brother’s support, Becca walked the few steps that stretched between her and Satu. Granny Dorcas walked beside her, chewing on her pipe.

“I’d like you to—” Satu began.

“Make a wilted flower bloom,” Becca said, ready to make magic.

“No,” Satu said sharply. “You must listen carefully to my instructions, Rebecca. I want you to fill that empty glass on the table.”

Rebecca’s chin lifted. “Water, milk, or lemonade?”

Gwyneth choked down a laugh.

Take that, you pudding-headed hoyden! Granny Dorcas brandished her frying pan.

“Witch’s choice,” Satu replied, her tone vinegar.

Becca pointed her ringed finger at the glass, and it filled slowly with lemonade from top to bottom, rather than from bottom to top. It was neatly done, tightly controlled, and very naughty.

An expression of astonishment slipped over Satu’s features, and quickly left.

“Very good, Rebecca.” Satu pointed to the candles. “Can you light them?”

Becca walked to the fireplace and blew gently on one wick. It burst into golden flame. She looked over her shoulder at Satu, cunning as a cat, before twirling around and setting every wick in the room alight.

“Settle down, poppet,” I warned. Rebecca was too young to have enemies—especially one like Satu.

“How about the rose in this picture?” Satu pointed to the pink blossom held in the fingers of my ancestor. “Can you make it wilt and shrivel up? It’s just like making it bloom, but backward.”

I opened my mouth to protest. Making things die was not a talent I wanted my children to have.

“Okay.” Becca pointed her index finger and walked toward the painting.

Nothing.

“That’s all right,” Satu said briskly, ready to move on. “You’ve got plenty of fire and water in you, Rebecca.”

But Becca was a competitive child. Her brother was outscoring her in magic. She scowled with displeasure.

“Please draw a breeze in from the garden,” Satu said, setting Becca a new task.

Becca tried, waving her arms around like a windmill, but the air in the room didn’t stir. We had always known that Becca’s magic was not as diverse as Pip’s, even before Apollo showed up and let us know our son was going to be a weaver.

Becca stomped off and sank into a chair by the door, her lips jutting into a pout.

“You still have one more test,” Satu said, calling her back.

Becca returned with ill-disguised reluctance.

“Her teen years are going to be a nightmare,” Gwyneth murmured.

“This test is stupid,” Becca grumbled.

“Close your eyes, Becca.” Satu’s voice was hypnotic. “Keep them closed. Tell me what you see.”

“A raven,” Becca said promptly, “but not the one who died on the pavement.”

Gwyneth and I exchanged worried glances.

“Can you invite the raven to join you here?” Satu pressed.

“His name is Fiachra,” Becca said.

My grandfather straightened.

“I’d like to meet Fiachra,” Satu said.

“Me, too.” Gwyneth stood on trembling legs.

A black bird with silver eyes and a silver ruff swooped past the window, beating its wings at the glass. It dropped to the windowsill. The window was cracked open, but not wide enough to let the ravenin.

“Can I open the window?” Becca asked Gwyneth.

“Of course,” Gwyneth said, her voice trembling.

Becca flung open the window so that Fiachra could hop through it. Outside, Matthew and Sarah were peering at the unusual bird.

“You sure you have room for a raven in New Haven, as well as a deerhound and a griffin?” Sarah asked my husband.

Becca waved. “Hi, Aunt Sarah! Look, Daddy. This is Fiachra. He’s the bird who came to New Haven and talked to me after his friend died.”

There had been no silver feathers on the raven I’d seen in New Haven. It was as though the bird had been given a collar of office, a mark of the goddess like the cross between Cailleach’s eyes.

“Fiachra?” Gwyneth whispered. “Is that you?”

Fiachra turned his brilliant silver eyes toward my aunt. He ducked his head and cawed with recognition. Fiachra hopped a few steps and then took flight, landing on Gwyneth’s outstretched hand.

“It’s good to see you, old friend.” Gwyneth’s eyes filled with tears. “How wonderful that you came when Becca called.”

Fiachra clucked and warbled, bobbing his head in Grandpa Tally’s direction.

“He did?” Gwyneth smiled at her brother.

Fiachra spread his wings and returned to Rebecca and Pip, watched closely by a curious Apollo.

“Apollo doesn’t mind if you fly, too,” Becca assured Fiachra. “Mommy flies sometimes. You can still be friends.”

Fiachra uttered a strange chirp. He paced up and down the windowsill, undecided. Finally, the raven flew into the room and landed on top of Apollo’s head. He pecked at a bit of soot that was trapped in the feathers between the griffin’s eyes.

See, Granny Dorcas. The Proctor legacy is safe with Rebecca, Grandpa Tally said, a twinkle in his eye.

Hmph, Granny Dorcas replied. That imp is bent on mischief. Best not to cosset her, or Darkness might follow.

Darkness wouldn’t stand a chance against Becca.

Satu returned her pen to the elastic loop on her notebook. “I think that’s enough for my report. Once I’ve filed it, you will receive a copy.”

“Aren’t you going to test Diana, too?” Gwyneth asked.

“I know what kind of witch she is,” Satu said, slipping her notebook in her bag. “She is strange and Dark. Like me.”

A sense of impending danger prickled along my hairline. Satu was up to something.

“Tinima already wrote a lengthy report about Diana’s abilities,” Satu said. “It was a last-minute filing, and it was too late to notify you of our change of plans. I’m sorry if we caused unnecessary concern.”

I wrapped my hands into tight fists to prevent myself from trying out one of my newly polished hexes.

“But we’ll see you next summer, Diana. In Venice.” Satu drew another Congregation missive from her bag. “Here’s the official notification that you’ve been selected to join the potential adepts in the class of 2018, as well as instructions on how to certify the skills you need to acquire before arriving in June. I’m sure that your aunt or the Ipswich coven will be able to attest to them using the enclosed form.”

“What?” I hadn’t foreseen this, either.

“You didn’t think we’d let you walk some other labyrinth, now that you’ve seen the one on Isola della Stella?” Satu’s voice dripped with scorn.

Matthew had had enough. He came into the room and stood next to Grandpa Tally in the same vigilant pose: arms crossed, limbs still, and his eyes everywhere.

“Congratulations, Diana. It’s a great honor to be invited to Celestina for your next examination,” Satu continued. “Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Proctor.”

Satu headed for the door. I slammed it shut before she could leave, trapping her inside the Old Place.

“That’s Professor Proctor,” I said, seething. “I’ll show you out, Satu. This way.”

“As you wish,” Satu said, inclining her head.

I led her through the kitchen, across the uneven granite stones, and into the sunshine.

“Go.” I pointed up the hill. “And don’t come back to Ravenswood, or within a hundred miles of my children again. Understood?”

“You don’t order me around, Diana,” Satu said softly. “I order you around. Remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” I said. “But those days are over.”

I felt the press of ancestors and family gathered at my back, and the power of Ravenswood under my feet.

Satu smiled. “We’ll see.”

She climbed the hill without hurry, gradually making her way to the witch’s tree, where I’d first seen her.

Infuriated, I followed.

“Stay with Pip and Becca,” I told Matthew, who had joined me outside.

I heard the sound of a car engine and flew over the top of the hill. I stopped the car with a drift of stones conjured out of the carriage road’s loose gravel.

“This isn’t over, Satu,” I said, landing on the hood of the Volvo.

Satu turned off the ignition and climbed out of the car.

“Oh, I’ve only started,” she replied.

“I’m not the same witch,” I warned. “You won’t defeat me as easily as you once did.”

Satu turned her palms to face me. They were bright with weaver’s cords, the colors extending to the tips of her fingers.

I gasped. Satu had found another weaver—one able to train her in the art of making new spells. I’d suspected she was a weaver. Here was proof.

“I’m not the same witch, either,” Satu said. “And you’re not as special as you thought. There are others like us.”

Maybe, but I doubted they had Goody Alsop’s expertise. And Satu may not have the ability to weave the tenth knot as I did.

“As for higher magic, you can’t hold a candle to your daughter,” Satu continued. “Rebecca will eclipse you in no time. The witches will have big plans for her once they see my report.”

The temperature dropped suddenly, and I shivered. I’d feared this might be the case, ever since Rebecca had danced with the ravens in the wood.

“You’ll know soon enough what lies in store for your daughter,” Satu said, her eyes gleaming with evil intent. “But what will the witches do when they find out about Philip, I wonder? What will they make of his unique inheritance?”

The earth shifted below my feet, just like the floorboards in the keeping room had when Pip stomped his foot.

Satu smiled, malevolent. She pulled on a yellow thread, then a green, flattening the rocky dune and clearing her way forward.

“Until next year,” Satu said as she climbed into the car.

I watched her car as it traveled down the carriage road, away from Ravenswood and the children.

Darkness gnawed like a poison in my stomach, feeding on the fear prompted by Satu’s words.

I beat it back with the Light of truth. I was a trained weaver who could tie the tenth knot. I was an initiate in higher magic. I was the mother of gifted twins, and the wife of an extraordinary man. I was more than the sum of my Bishop and Proctor ancestors. I was more than a match for Satu.

Helter skelter, hang sorrow, care’ll kill a cat, up-tails all, and a louse for the hangman. Mary Proctor’s ghost forked her fingers in the direction Satu had departed. She spat on the carriageway for good measure. Take that, you bald-pated lummox.

We stood together in silence as the dust churned up by the car’s wheels settled.

They’ve been looking for you, Mary said, holding the bag containing the black bird oracle. It was bouncing up and down with agitation. I hadn’t wanted them with me when I took the witches’ examination in case they roused the witch’s curiosity, and had left them safely at the farm.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the cards from the ghost.

When my fingers touched the bag, the weaver’s cords on my left hand flashed with the colors of higher, darker magic. A single card wormed its way out of the protective enclosure and fell to the ground, faceup.

Blood.

“Four drops of blood on an altar stone, / Foretold this moment before you were born. / Three families joined in joy and in struggle, / Will each bear witness to the black bird oracle. / Two children, bright as Moon and Sun,” I said, the power of Ravenswood flowing through my veins and imbuing Bridget Bishop’s words with the power of all the witches who came before me. “ Will Darkness, Light, and Shadow make one. ”

Nothing—and no one—would stop Pip and Becca from choosing their own paths forward. I would make sure of that.

I traced my own sacred symbol in the air to seal my oath. It was not Matthew’s cross but the simple circlet of the tenth knot, the ouroboros, a beginning with no ending, the powerful sign of creation and destruction.

It shimmered before me, black and silver like Fiachra’s feathers.

“So must it be,” I said, as the wind carried the tenth knot Elsewhere. “So must it be.”