Chapter 49

Chapter 49

I t took a few hours before Alice managed to find her an untraceable phone, and she warned her that any messages Fey sent could still be intercepted and recovered, if Alastair were being monitored. It would be best, she advised, to couch the message in some sort of code.

In the end, Fey decided not to text Alastair directly at all, just in case. Instead, she pulled the wrinkled business card from the pocket of her fighting leathers and sent the message to Jasper.

Goddess Park. Midnight.

Fey stared at the message after it was sent, frowning. She needed a way to let him know who the message was from, to give him a clue that it was her, and who it was meant for. When she realized how, she smiled, and sent one last message:

Love, Shirley Temple.

Then she handed the phone back to Alice, who promptly popped it open, removed the sim card inside, and snapped it in two.

"You can never be too careful," she insisted, calling Fire to burn the slivers of plastic away to nothing.

Alastair was waiting for her when she arrived, just before midnight, and Fey couldn't help but wonder if he'd been standing there at the foot of the Goddess Statue since sundown. She wouldn't put it past him.

The park was empty, aside from the two of them. Only Vamps and party kids were typically out in the city this late on a weeknight, and neither of those groups spent much time in this district. Overhead, the moon hung high and bright in the dark, night sky, casting a white glow over the world. It illuminated Alastair's messy black hair as she approached him.

"Hey," Fey called softly, and his head jerked up at the sound.

Before she knew it, he had her wrapped in his arms, crushing her against him.

"They said you were dead," he whispered gruffly against her cheek. "I didn't want to believe it, but… fuck , it's good to see you, Witchling."

"Yeah, well, I'm not dead," Fey laughed, but as his words sank in, she leaned back, tilting her head up to look at him, her smile slipping. "Wait, what do you mean? Who said I was dead?"

Alastair blinked down at her.

"The Queen announced it," he told her slowly. "Wait, you didn't know? Fey, where have you been? Haven't you heard any of the announcements?"

Fey was shaking her head. "No, no, you must be mistaken. They don't announce it when a Blade falls. They've never announced it when a Blade falls, Alastair."

"Witching," he said softly. "They named you."

Her heart sank in her chest like a stone.

"They named you as a traitor to the Crown. They're saying you went rogue and killed two of your sisters. Fey… there was a bounty on your head until… Fuck. They think you're dead, and we should keep it that way. We need to get you off the street. Come—I'm taking you back to my place. The entire realm knows who you are right now, and it's not safe for you to be out here."

It made sense, Fey thought through the numb haze of too many emotions. Dameon had to pin the blame on someone. But to reveal a Blade's name, to show her likeness… that had never been done before. It was a slap in the face to everything she'd done for them. Everything she'd sacrificed.

What were her sisters thinking, she wondered. Did Lilith and Joy believe what was being said about her? Whatever lies Dameon had concocted? Did they think even for one second that she could have been responsible for what happened to Willow?

She couldn't think about it— wouldn't think about it. She had to trust them, trust that they knew her well enough to know that she could never have hurt Willow.

Her fingertips trailed over the wound on her arm, the one that had severed her connection to her sisters. She ached to feel them again, to know what they were feeling, to know that they were safe…

Alastair brought her to an elegant townhouse in the Shifter District, not too far from his club. It was unmistakably male inside, and though the furniture and decorations were expensive, the place felt hollow, like he'd never put much thought into making it a home.

"There's a shower through there," Alastair told her as he welcomed her inside. The living room was bigger than the massive common room she had shared with her sisters at the palace, and the long L-shaped couch in the center of it looked big enough to sleep at least two people. He motioned toward a closed door. "Just through the bedroom. You can't miss it."

"Is that your way of telling me I smell?" Fey asked.

Alastair smirked, but he didn't look up at her as he pulled his phone from his pocket and began to message someone. "I just assumed you'd want to clean up, after all you've been through," he said, shrugging. "I'd never be stupid enough to suggest you smell. Even if you do," he added with a pointed look.

"Good," Fey said. "Smart Vampire."

She headed through the door he indicated, ignoring the weight of his eyes following her as she walked out of the room.

Goddess bless me .

His bedroom was stunning. Twice as big as her bedroom back at the palace, the bed was big enough to sleep five people comfortably, and all she wanted to do was climb between those sheets and sleep for a few days…

Shower first, Fey promised herself, turning away from the bed with difficulty and heading into the most beautiful bathroom she'd ever seen in her life.

The shower was wonderfully, blessedly hot . Standing under the falling water, Fey practically purred with pleasure as the water fell all around her. How long had it been since she'd been able to wash herself?

Way too long . She sighed, letting her body relax under the steady rain of water.

It wasn't just the pleasure of finally being clean, after—at least—three days with no shower. It wasn't just that Alastair's shower alone was the size of a small room, and had not one, not two, but three shower heads, one of which came down from the Goddess-blessed ceiling .

No, it was so much more than that. Because for the first time in her life, Fey could feel the heat surrounding her on an entirely different level.

Fire.

The steam filling the room danced with the power of Air, Water, and Fire . Even Earth, she realized, feeling a soft beat of that drum inside her—microscopic elements of iron, copper, and salts hiding within the droplets. It was incredible, unbelievable that she couldn't feel it before. Her body hummed in response to all that power, hummed with the unseen energy it carried.

What am I?

Fey tilted her head back, letting the water wash over her body, washing away the grime and suffering of the last few days.

The world around her felt brighter, fuller, somehow so much more than it once had been. She could feel it all, every element humming with energy in the world around her, in every thing around her. It was like having another sense entirely. Like she could see a new world layered on top of the one she already knew .

What am I?

When she'd shied away from healing magic, when she'd chosen instead to embrace her power in a darker, more violent way, a part of Fey had always thought she should have been born a Fire Witch. Felt she was more suited to the rage and violence that was associated with the Fire Coven. And now that power, that energy danced inside of her, raw and powerful.

But it wasn't her. Wasn't fully her, anyway.

Each of the four elements was a pulse inside her now, flowing through her like her own blood. But one sang louder than the others, one called to her on a deeper level, beat in time with the same pulse as her heart.

Standing in the heat of the shower, feeling the air and water and fire and earth all around her, Fey knew with absolute certainty that she was a Water Witch after all.

It was strange to acknowledge it. She'd always rejected it, always thought the Goddess had chosen wrong when she had gifted her the power over Water. She didn't use it the right way, hadn't even once used it to heal, or help—not knowingly, anyway. But Water didn't just heal. It could drown you, freeze you, boil you. It was death just as much as it was life. And now that she could feel the Goddess's touch in everything around her, she knew she wasn't using her power wrong at all. Had never been using it wrong.

What am I? she asked herself. And this time she knew the answer.

She was Fey. She was a Water Witch. Always had been. This was the power the Goddess had chosen for her, knowing how she would use it. It wasn't blasphemy, what she did with it. It was… right.

She felt complete. For the first time in her life, alone and fractured from her sisters, Fey finally felt complete. Sure, the resurgence of Fire and Earth in her body had helped, but it was the surge of Water that had filled her that completed her.

Fey reached for a bottle of soap and began to wash herself, knowing that no matter what happened in the coming days, at least she had this.

At least she finally knew who she was.