her soul to the Afterlife so she could one day reunite with Aislin and me and put a stop to my father’s evil plan.
She knew everything. Then she died, and almost everyone forgot about her.
I place my palm to the headstone, wondering how she died, where she was when she breathed her last breath. Was she in pain? Most of all, I wonder where she is now, because if what Draven told me is right, this is just where her body is, not her spirit.
As I glance up at the hill a ways away, the one that hides the Keepers castle, anger blasts through me, a deadly storm. Before I can even comprehend what I’m doing, I storm across the graveyard. The wind howls as I bash my fist into a tree trunk repeatedly until my knuckles bleed, and the emotional pain inside me is overridden with physical pain.
“Fuck!” I kick the shit out of the tree until I can’t breathe, and then I rest my head against the bark, trying to calm the fuck down “Come on. Get you shit together.”
Counting to ten, I push away from the tree and finish the walk back to the gate.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Amelia asks as I stride up to her.
I stop in front of her and cross my arms. “I need you to take me somewhere else.”
She narrows her eyes and shakes her head. “No way. Not until you take me to the witch who can remove the mark.”
“Look,” I say with zero tolerance, “I get that you need to remove your daughter’s mark, but I need to make a stop first. It’s important.”
She jabs a finger against my chest. “Maybe you need to be reminded of our bargain?”
I smack her hand away. “Watch it, witch,” I warn. “You’re crossing a dangerous line putting your hands on me like that.”
“You’re the one who needs to watch it,” she says, a slow grin creeping up her face. “Remember what happens if you back out on our little bargain.”
Fuck. I want to punch the grin right off her face. I don’t have time for this shit.
“Fine,” I grit through my teeth, popping my neck while telling myself to chill the fuck out. “I’ll take you to the witch who can help you.”
When we land in the living room of Gemma’s house, I become too aware of how close I am to her. I can sense her nearness, feel her in my veins, feel her fueling my body with energy, longing, and desire that needs to be filled.
I take a deep inhale to cool myself down and focus on why I’m here.
Everything looks normal: all the chairs are upright, the TV is off, and the photos are still on the wall. They’ve boarded up the windows, which was smart of them. I remember hearing the news about when the world was first taken over by the Mark of Malefiscus. The letter arrived via Aislin’s witch powers, which meant a small, flaming ball of paper landed on my head and singed some of my hair. I read the letter but never replied, just in case the letter fell into the wrong hands.
I knew I needed to protect Gemma in every way possible, and that meant keeping her away from me, no matter how shitty I felt about it. I deserve to feel that way after the hell I’ve put her through.
But now I’m back in her house, about to blow everything if she discovers I’m here.
“Where is everyone?” Amelia asks, warily glancing around.
The place is quiet, making my Keeper instincts go on high alert. I draw a knife from my pocket.
“I’m not sure.”
“What are you doing?” she asks, eyeballing the knife in my hand. “And where’s the witch? This better not be a trap.”
“It’s not.” At least, I hope it’s not. “Stay here a minute, and I’ll go find her.”
Amelia takes a seat on the sofa. “Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head. I’m not going anywhere.” She crosses her legs and sits back.
My fingers itch to shut her up, but I turn my back on her and head for the stairs. With every step I make, I cringe, worried Gemma might hear me. If I play this right, I can get in and out without her ever realizing I was here.
At the top of the stairway, I notice her bedroom door is cracked open, and suddenly my plan goes right out the window. Emotions possess my body like the fucking