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When Erik just continues to stare, Jesse leans in and murmurs, “That was the most intense display of power either of us has ever felt.”
My head jerks toward him so I can meet his eyes. He’s watching me with that same sense of astonishment written all over Erik’s face.
“We knew you held uncommon power,” Erik says, pulling my attention away from Jesse, “but that was quite unexpected.”
I swallow thickly, choosing to focus on what that power means in the here and now. “Then they will come.”
Before either of them can respond, a chill runs over my skin. Movement at the mouth of the alley catches my eye, and I turn to see a group of five or so people spilling into the space. I recognize them almost instantly as the group that approached us in the club when we came to Bourbon Street the first time. Windmere.
The sound of metal on concrete rings out behind me, and I spin to see a tin can skittering into the shadows as another small group of people stride toward us. As they grow near, I see a flash of red hair. The woman is older, but bears a strong resemblance to the witch we met in the hotel lobby, Heather. She stops beside a blonde, and it’s obvious they’re related. The blond must be Georgianna’s mother, making these two sisters. Sabledown.
The witches surround us, yet somehow manage to keep themselves separate from each other. A few disgusted looks are tossed back and forth between the two covens, causing a pit to form in my stomach.
If they are at odds with each other, will they ignore their issues and band together to help us?
They have to.
“What is the meaning of this?” the blonde Sabledown witch demands.
“You obviously sent out that burst of power to lure us here,” one of the Windmere witches says before I can respond. “Do you think we’d allow you or your cohorts to feed on us?”
“What? No,” I blurt, shaking my head. “I called you here because I need your help.”
With that, a grumbling rises from both groups, and they all turn as if to leave. Panic sears through me, and more words flow furiously from my lips.
“Brimmwise took my friend, Steph. They’re demanding I surrender my Grundelier magic to them if I ever want to see her again.”
They all freeze with my first word, then slowly turn back to face me with matching expressions of disbelief. One of the Sabledown witches responds first.
“You cannot even consider relenting.”
My facial muscles tighten as I say, “I will do whatever it takes to save Steph.”
I can feel the tension rolling off of Jesse and Erik as the circle of witches tightens around us, obviously forgetting their personal beef in light of this new threat. Steeling my spine, I stand my ground, refusing to back down. This is too important.
Steph is too important.
“Brimmwise has been trying to gain access to Grundelier magic since the line died out,” the redhead from Sabledown says in a low, tense voice, then cocks her head to study me. “Or since we assumed the line died out. They’ve tried everything from creating talismans from old Grundelier relics to using dark magic to try to contact the spirits of the old coven.”
My ruby necklace flashes through my mind when she says the word “talisman,” but I quickly discount the idea that it was created by Brimmwise. It connects me to Grundeliers from the past. To my own past. Brimmwise wouldn’t benefit from strengthening that connection if their goal is to get me to surrender my magic to them.
“If they gain access to your magic,” one of the Windmere witches adds, “there will be no stopping them.”
“Stopping them from what?” I ask.
“Wiping out every other coven in existence. Destroying the balance of power so they can reign supreme. They’ll use the human population to create more werewolves, who would serve only them and potentially eradicate the vampires.”
“Isn’t that what you all want?” I blurt without thinking. “You all hate us so much. Why wouldn’t you help them?”
I’m being stupid. I know I am. I want them to help me, not give them reasons to stand against us and help Brimmwise. But their obvious prejudice against me and the ones I love is frustrating in the extreme.
“We believe in maintaining the balance,” one of the witches says, his voice calm despite my outburst. Then in a more sarcastic tone, he adds, “And did you not hear the part about Brimmwise eliminating every other witch community in the world?”
“Then you have to help us,” I say as I widen my stance and throw my shoulders back. “Help us save my friend so I won’t have to give them my magic to get her back.”
“Giving Brimmwise your magic won’t save her. Not for long, anyway,” someone calls out. “You can sacrifice her or kill us all. Either way, she’s dead.”
“Not if you help me,” I say, desperation making my voice crack.
