Chapter 2

A drip of icy water struck my cheek.

I woke slowly, my skull pounding in time with every other ache in my body. Another drip, this one against my brow, made me crack an eye open, but it was an echoing voice nearby that finally pierced the black veil of unconsciousness.

"—haven't had word yet, they want us to keep them here until the Council's voted—"

My mind sparked, sputtering back to life as it seized that single word. Council.

There was only one council I knew of.

"Can't they just make a bloody decision for once?" another woman complained. "They'll have to drag the elder crones out of those crypts they call homes."

"By whatever stringy wisps of hair they have left, hopefully," the first answered. "I'd pay my last gold coin to see it, the old goblins."

My heart lurched in my chest as realization conquered my disbelief.

Sorceresses.

It had been sorceresses in the apartment. Sorceresses had attacked and abducted us, finding us before we could even formulate a plan to find them. Unbelievable.

If my head hadn't felt like it was on the verge of splitting open like a melon, I might have laughed at the sheer irony .

But there was nothing funny about this. Not when I couldn't see the others.

"Hello?" I whispered. "Is anyone there?"

I strained my ears, but the only answer was the faint sound of breathing nearby.

The air hung like a black curtain around me, heavy with damp and an almost mineral smell. Each endless second it took for my eyes to adjust to the low light was agonizing.

Bit by bit, my mind was coming alive to the situation, collecting vital details: I was flat on my back, my wrists pinned down against the flat stone ground with what felt like solid stone manacles. I tugged at them, but there was no chain, no give. My legs were free, but a hell of a lot of good that was going to do me when I could barely sit up.

We were surrounded by rough-hewn walls of ancient stone on three sides. To my left, thick stone bars jutted up from the ground like stalagmites, sealing off the small alcove that served as our prison.

Another drip of water slapped my face and I scowled up at the darkness. I lifted my head, straining my neck until I could just make out the silhouette of someone sitting against the wall forming one side of our cell. Olwen. To my right, I caught a hint of the reflective fabric on the old sneakers I'd lent Neve. I heard a third person breathing from somewhere behind me. That would be Caitriona, hopefully.

I released a shaky breath. Blood returned to my muscles with the force of a thousand scalding pins, but I barely registered it as a short-lived wave of relief passed over me.

The sorceresses might have saved us the hassle of tracking them down, but the fact that they'd been searching for us at all, that we were now being treated no better than crooks, spoke to some kind of misunderstanding. Or worse.

Whatever these sorceresses wanted with us, it wasn't a chat and a cup of tea. We needed to get out of here and regroup.

Based on what I could see, which admittedly wasn't much, we seemed to be deep underground—in a cavern of some sort. The air had that certain, musty stillness as it all but wept with moisture. And a tomb would have smelled worse, frankly.

"So we can expect a vote at some point in the next century," came a new voice from somewhere deeper in the cavern. "After they waste a lifetime deciding how to conduct said vote, of course."

Great. I stifled a groan. There were three of them, and this one, while more soft-spoken, sounded just as surly as the other two.

"Don't let any of the others hear you speaking in such a way, Acacia," warned the first voice. "They're all desperate to get in Her Serene Smugness's good graces, thinking that'll save them."

Finally, new details carved themselves from the darkness—and none of them good.

There was a hallway beyond the bars of our cell, its floor adorned with swirling patterns of mosaic tiles, visible only because of the contrast of the white tiles against the darker ones. The longer I stared at them, the colder my blood ran. Here and there, curse sigils were disguised in the repeating pattern.

I closed my eyes again and sighed, beyond irritated at myself. It should have been my first guess. I'd been in far too many of them to not recognize a sorceress's vault at first glance.

Now the exit, I thought, craning my head around to try to peer down the hallway. There'd be one entrance, which would open to a Vein. I scoured my memory for a sorceress named Acacia, but there were no useful tidbits tucked away there.

I pulled on the manacles around my wrists, testing them again. Biting my lip, I hunched and contorted my shoulders in turn, twisting my wrists around in the restraints to feel for sigils carved into the ground or the metal itself.

My fingers skimmed over a swirling shape on the left cuff, just above where it attached to the ground.

"Yes," I breathed out shakily. The quick exploration had left the delicate skin of my wrists scraped raw and bleeding. I pushed my left arm down through the restraint as far as I could, freeing up more of that hand's mobility. With another steadying breath, I drew my right leg up and crossed it over my body, turning my foot until the sole of the boot brushed against my fingertips.

Cabell and I had hammered metal spikes into the bottoms of our work boots for better traction on jobs. You tango with an acid pit and you'll do just about anything to avoid a second dance.

I felt along the ridges of my shoe's tread until I found a loose spike, twisting it until it pulled free.

Swallowing a little noise of triumph, I bent my wrist at a painful angle, pressing the sharpened tip of the spike against the stone cuff. It took more than a few tries, but finally, I got a good enough grip on the spike to start scratching against what I hoped was the sigil. Distorting the symbol might not be enough to break the spell locking me in place, but at least it would weaken it.

A soft pressure glanced against the top of my head and I jerked in surprise, the spike nearly slipping from my fingers. I craned my head back farther than before, twisting my neck painfully to look over my left shoulder.

Relief soared in me at the sight of Caitriona, her silvery hair bright even in the dark. Her hands were chained above her head to the stone bars. Even with her impressive height, she'd only just managed to stretch the toe of her tennis shoe out to reach me.

Her eyes flashed in the dark, as sharp as any nocturnal predator's.

Where? she mouthed.

Before I could speak, one of the sorceresses—the younger one, if my ears hadn't betrayed me—raised her voice enough for it to carry clearly down the hall.

"The terror we've feared for centuries is upon us and the High Sorceress can't be arsed to even look for the bloody thing he's demanding we return?"

Caitriona's eyes met mine again, widening .

My body tensed. What thing did Lord Death want them to return?

At least we won't have to warn them about anything, I thought miserably.

"What's going on?" Olwen's voice was groggy as she came to. "Where are we?"

"Shh," Caitriona whispered. "We're all right."

"How is any of this all right?" I whispered back.

"Does …," Neve rasped out from my right. "Does anyone know where we are?"

"A vault," I told her, scraping the spike against the metal restraint as hard as I could.

"Oh. Well … that's not the worst thing, is it?" Olwen said. "Didn't you say you have experience with sorceress vaults with your job as a … what did you call it?"

"A Hollower." A glorified treasure hunter of legendary relics. "And my experience is with breaking in, not out."

"We're with sorceresses?" Neve said.

I realized, a split second too late, what was coming. "Wait—!"

"Hey!" she shouted. "This is a mistake! Hello? Did you hear me?"

I let my head fall back against the stone ground with a sigh. So much for the element of surprise, never mind the distant dream of escaping.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. Three cloaked figures strode toward us, emerging from somewhere deeper in the vault. An antique-style lantern floated beside them, as if carried by an unseen spirit.

"Marvelous," one said, and I recognized the voice belonging to Acacia. "You're finally awake."

Her face was like white velvet beneath the braided crown of her pale hair, and the flawlessness of her beauty set her apart as something other, something to fear, because it could only be a lure. And her eyes … they were spiteful as they assessed us, before turning to her companion. "I told you it wouldn't be much longer, Hestia."

Hestia revealed herself to be the wiry one with tan skin and a slightly pinched expression as she declared, "Best to start with the one that doesn't have magic."

The cuffs around my wrists fell away, and in a rare moment of composure, I scrambled back on clumsy limbs, colliding with a soft form behind me—Neve.

"How quickly courage flees when their master is not there to protect them," the nameless one said. Her pale blue eyes were rimmed with heavy plum liner the same shade as her knotted hair.

"M-Master?" I croaked. "Hang on, what are you talking about?"

"Listen," Neve began, sounding entirely too reasonable for the situation we were in. "There's clearly been some sort of misunderstanding—"

A hot band of pressure locked around my waist and yanked me back toward the stone bars of our cell. I bit my tongue painfully, blood exploding in my mouth as Acacia spun her hands in a mocking show of reeling me in. The small spike slipped from my fingers as I tried in vain to drive my heels down to fight the pull of magic.

"Stop this!" Olwen pulled against her manacles. "We're not your enemies!"

"Is that so?" Acacia flicked her wrist, and I was flung like a doll up against the bars. Stars burst behind my eyes as my temple collided with the rock. Magic shoved at me from behind, and my ribs screamed in protest.

"Release her!" Caitriona roared.

"Please!" Olwen begged. "We were coming to find the Council of Sistren, to warn you about Lord Death!"

"Warn us?" Plum Hair grated out. "Warn us of what, precisely? That resisting his demand was futile? As if slaughtering five of our sistren weren't message enough!"

"We were—we—" Each word I spoke only increased the pressure from behind. I wondered, fleetingly, how much force my body could withstand before it was crushed against the stone bars.

Caitriona let out a noise of pure rage, trying to rip her hands from the restraints .

"You led him directly to Stellamaris last night— admit it! " Acacia snarled.

Despite the pain ratcheting through my body, my mind latched onto that name. The Sorceress Stellamaris lived on the outskirts of Boston. Cabell and I had done a recovery job for her, retrieving her mother's ring from another sorceress's tomb. She had been— pleasant wasn't the right word, and neither was harmless. She had been … uncomplicated to deal with.

The storm. It couldn't have been a coincidence that the city experienced a freak blizzard the same night she was killed.

"We ought to rip every last detail about their master from their minds," Plum Hair said. "Surely the Council won't punish us if we get what they're after?"

"What are you talking about?" Neve asked, beyond agitated.

"Unmakers of worlds," Hestia sneered. "The four servants of Death, maidens of winter—the others may dress you up in pretty names, but we know what you are. We know the rot in your hearts."

"We do not serve Death!" Caitriona raged. "We are his sworn enemies!"

At that, all three women laughed riotously. And through the pain, through terror, all I could imagine was kicking them into the nearest curse sigil.

"I'm one of you!" Neve cried. "I'm a sorceress! They're—they're priestesses of Avalon! We tried to stop Lord Death, not help him!"

The last of the air left my lungs as the force of Acacia's magic drove harder against my back, threatening to snap my ribs, my spine. My vision darkened at the edges as I struggled to draw in even a shallow breath.

"Your fork-tongued lies mean nothing to us," Hestia said. "There wasn't a soul alive in Avalon when your master compelled you to destroy it."

"We were trying to save the isle," Olwen said, pleading. "We thought the ritual would purify it—it was a mistake! "

She began to hum, a shaky, desperate sound, to summon a spell. Neve joined her, her voice breaking with her sobbing breath.

The sorceresses only laughed, the flickering lantern light deepening the harsh lines of their faces.

"Singing spells? How quaint, " Acacia said. "Your cell is warded against the use of magic. Try it again and you'll certainly be carrying your friend home in pieces."

"It was a mistake! All of it!" Neve swore in desperation.

"More lies," Plum Hair sang. She glanced toward Acacia, enjoying the show.

"Tell us what your master is after," Acacia demanded. "And why he wants it by the winter solstice."

"We don't know what you're talking about!" Caitriona thundered.

"They must truly hate their friend to wish her dead," Hestia said. "I don't know about you, sistren, but I would be all too glad to avenge the mortals who perished at Glastonbury. The ones slaughtered as you unmade the boundary and brought hell raining down upon this world."

The agony finally overcame me like a tide, ripping through the last bit of strength I had. I cried out, hot tears streaking my face. My limbs, my skin, strained against the stone, stretching painfully, threatening to tear.

"Stop!"

Blue-white light erupted through the cell with Neve's shattering cry, incinerating the darkness with its unbridled intensity.

The sorceresses stumbled back, flinging their arms over their faces to shield their eyes. The light produced no heat, but it radiated a dizzying pressure with each shuddering breath Neve took.

"You said you blocked their magic!" Hestia shrieked.

"I did!" Acacia shrieked back.

The pressure crushing me against the bars released and I hit the ground hard, gasping. My fingers clawed at the rough stone as I tried to steady my galloping heart.

"Tamsin?" Olwen called out. "Are you all right? "

I couldn't answer. Couldn't speak just yet. As the light retreated, it cast the cell back into a deeper darkness. I blinked against the spots floating in my vision, and even then, I wondered if I was imagining it—the way the magic seemed to linger on Neve's skin like a dusting of stars before it winked out entirely.

My breath was stilted, burning in my aching chest. At the sound of the sorceresses' steps shuffling forward, I curled down into myself, my entire body bracing for more pain.

"What … are you?" Acacia ground out. The three sorceresses were unharmed, but their hair was flying loose, their long robes and gowns askew, as if they'd barely come through a windstorm.

"I told you," Neve said, the pleading note back in her voice. She pulled against her restraints, trying to sit up. "I'm one of you."

"That was not the Mother's magic," Hestia said, breathless. "That was not our magic."

"It must be his, " came the third. "Death magic. The power of Annwn."

"No!" Neve said, pleading. "It's not! I—it's—"

Hestia turned her back to us, lowering her voice to a mere whisper. For the first time, she sounded uncertain as she spoke to the others. "Do we kill her?"

I rolled onto my stomach, fear roiling in my gut. Caitriona slammed her back against the stone bars, as if she could break them with sheer will.

"Try it," she warned, the words brimming with lethal promise.

"What is that dull old saying? It's better to beg forgiveness than seek permission?" Ice shot through my veins as Acacia's gaze fixed on Neve. "I think it best we kill them all."

Then, through the veil of terror descending over the vault, came the knock.

It wasn't a timid sound so much as polite. I thought I'd imagined it until it came again, louder and more insistent.

The sorceresses looked to one another .

"Were you expecting someone?" Acacia asked the others.

"If it's one of the Council—" the nameless one began.

"Well, go and see to it, then," Acacia said, waving a dismissive hand in her sistren's direction.

"Me?" Hestia complained. "Why do I have to do everything?"

There was a third knock.

"Fine, I'll do it myself," Acacia groused, the skirt of her sapphire-blue dress whirling with her. "If any of them so much as whimper, break every bone in their bodies."

My pulse thundered in my ears as I forced myself to sit up.

"Ah-ah," Hestia tutted. "Stay where you are."

"We didn't mean to hurt anyone," Neve whispered.

"Then you're worse than traitors to the Goddess," Hestia said. "You're fools."

Moments later, Acacia's shuffling steps returned, her black cloak flaring out behind her with the force of her fury.

Hestia arched a thin brow. "Who was it?"

Acacia shoved a rumpled piece of parchment against her chest, then turned to glare at us, indecision passing over her face. Hestia's eyes widened as she read it. Plum Hair ripped it out of her hands to read it herself, then turned to someone I couldn't see.

"This cannot be real," Plum Hair murmured. "This is a trick."

"Are you willing to bet on that? Because I'm always up for a friendly wager," said a voice from behind Acacia.

Every inch of my skin prickled with sudden awareness.

The shadowed figure stepped out from behind her into the floating lantern's light.

"I wouldn't stake your life on it, though," Emrys said.