Chapter 62

Chapter 62

FEY

T he throne room was filled with quiet terror after the attack on Kallista.

“She’s running. Trying to hide from me,” the Demon told them. “But she can’t run forever.”

“It’s not…?” Callum began.

“This is no Vampire,” Kallista assured him. The visible relief in Callum's eyes was nowhere near as strong as the flash of guilt Fey saw there. He’d really believed it, if even for a moment. Believed his brother was capable of this.

Fey met Alice’s eyes. No more doubt there, not from either one of them.

“Keep searching, Kallista,” Alice said, eyes still on Fey.

A Blood Witch. A real Blood Witch, in the city, hell bent on bringing them all down.

“I think it’s time to get your blades, sister,” Alice told her.

Fey hadn’t worn her blades since the night of the Blood Moon. For weeks after, she’d kept them at the foot of her bed, just in case. It had been hard, back then, to think there would be a time in her life without them. Hard to put up that mantle and put that part of her to rest.

Joy had helped. One day she’d come home with a decorative cedar box, just large enough to fit both her blades. The weapons remained next to her bed, carefully nestled in that box until she’d moved in with Alastair.

It had been easier to put them away for good, then, tucking the box under his bed and out of sight. She’d felt okay leaving that part of her behind.

Now, storming into their home, her powers thrumming to life inside of her, Fey felt those blades pulling her toward them like a beacon.

She had expected Alastair to be working at the club tonight. He wasn’t. And he wasn’t alone. Fey stopped for just a moment, staring in surprise at Jasper on their couch, hunched over himself as though in pain, leaning against Alastair’s chest.

“What’s going on?” she asked, throat constricting. “Is he hurt?”

Alastair shook his head.

“It’s Vivian,” Jasper said. He looked up at her, fear in his eyes. “Something’s wrong with her.”

Guilt twisted in Fey’s stomach. She didn’t have time, not even for him, not now. She was on a mission, and her sister needed her.

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I’m so sorry but…but I can’t stay.”

Alastair’s gaze sharpened.

“What happened?” he asked.

“The council was attacked by a Blood Witch,” Fey told him. When Alastair opened his mouth, the sharp look in his eye replaced with fear, she shook her head quickly. “Your brother is fine. They all are. But I have to go. Kallista is tracking her, and… they need me. The realm needs me.”

Jasper nodded, slowly.

“Go,” he told her. “Do what you need to do.”

They knew who and what she was. And they understood, both of them.

Fey moved past them toward the bedroom, kneeling before the bed and reaching under it blindly. Where was it, where was it ?

There. Her hand clasped the wood, and she pulled, yanking it out triumphantly. It was just as beautiful as she remembered, just as beautiful as the day Joy had brought it home for her. Her fingers trailed lovingly over the carved wood gently before she opened it.

The twin blades felt almost warm in her hands as she took them out.

As her fingers worked to attach the familiar sheaths to her thighs, Jasper’s voice carried from the living room.

“I just don’t understand what happened. One second, we were talking, and the next… nothing. Like I passed out.”

“And she was just gone?” Alastair was asking.

“Vanished,” Jasper answered, pain lacing the words. Fey’s heart twisted in her chest. She would help him. Would help Vivian, too, as soon as she could. But not now. Whatever was happening with his niece could wait.

The danger to the realm couldn’t.

“That’s not even the weirdest part, though,” Jasper continued. “She kept talking about… about shadows , and someone controlling them. She had to get away from the shadows. She wasn’t making any sense, but?—”

Fey’s heart stuttered. In a numb haze, she stood, blades clasped in her hands, and slowly she stalked back into the living room.

“What did you just say?” she asked Jasper, praying she’d misheard.

Jasper blinked. “About Viv?”

“About shadows,” Fey answered, her voice strained. Let her be wrong. Please let her be wrong.

“Viv… she said shadows were chasing her. Someone was controlling them, and… she needed to get away from them…”

No.

No, it couldn’t be.

“Vivian’s father…” Fey whispered. “The male who sired her. He was a Witch, wasn’t he?”

Jasper’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what that has to do with?—”

“Answer the fucking question,” she ordered, baring her teeth. Jasper swallowed hard.

“Yes,” Alastair answered for him. “He was a Witch.”

No, no, no .

“It’s her. She’s the Blood Witch,” Fey murmured, feeling the world tilt around her. “It’s Vivian.”

Jasper shook his head. “What? No. No, she’s a Shifter, not a Witch. I’ve seen her Wolf, Fey.”

“She’s a Shifter with Witch blood,” Alastair said, considering it. “It’s… rare. But?—”

“But she could be a Witch. She could have powers, couldn’t she?” Fey finished for him. This was bad. Goddess, this was so bad. “Callum said something in the council meeting about shared genetic traits…”

She had to find her. Find her before Kallista did. Vivian was in danger. Her Jasper’s Vivian.

“Where would she go, Jasper?” Fey asked.

He was panicked, his gaze unfocused, eyes so wide she could see too much white.

“She’s not a Witch,” he insisted, shaking his head. “She can’t be. She would have told us, would have told her family. She would have told me .”

“Focus.” Fey snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Jasper, we need to find her. Now. She is in danger and every second counts. Where would she go?”

Kallista would find her. And Kallista would kill her.

Unless Fey could get to her first.

This time, when the memory of Willow’s death jumped to her mind, her sister was wearing Vivian’s face.

Jasper blinked. Finally, his eyes focused. First on Fey’s hand, and then slowly rising to look her in the eyes.

“There’s a warehouse,” he said finally. “She and her friends hang out there. She thinks we don’t know about it, but…” He took a deep breath. “It was Declan’s hideout first. Our hideout. Declan’s younger brother, Jayce… he’s Vivian’s best friend. That’s where she’d go.”

Fey slid her blades into place on her thighs. Their weight was a familiar comfort.

“Then that’s where we’re going,” she said.