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“But she didn’t willingly sacrifice herself.”
Lilian shrugs. “Nature is very simple. For every action—a reaction. A life for a life. Since life’s blood was an ingredient for sealing the spell, life’s blood must be spilled to reverse it.”
“Beauchamp or Dumont blood,” I say, through clenched teeth.
“That’s right.”
Lilian holds my gaze to let that sink in.
There’s a spark of understanding through the bond I share with Josie, and she frowns. “That’s why Grand-Mère took me and fled.”
I nod. “Her leaving kept you alive and ensured the sacrifice of Gisèle Caron wasn’t made for nothing. As long as Dumont witches lived, no one could break the ritual.”
Lilian offers Josie a sad smile. “Claudette sacrificed more than you know when she left New Orleans. She insisted I do the same, but I couldn’t abandon my sisters.”
Josie stiffens. “Grand-Mère would never abandon the women of her coven. Never.”
“Oh, I don’t blame your grandmother, dear,” she amends quickly. “She wasn’t the only family who cut ties and left New Orleans. But I knew those who stayed would need someone to guide them if we were to survive the fallout of the ritual.”
“And yet we’re barely surviving at all.” The comment draws our attention to a small woman with pin-straight black hair tucked behind her ears. It takes a moment to place the gaunt face but that’s likely because the bruise around her eye has healed since the last time we saw her.
It’s the Moon Witch working for the Algiers pack. The one that came after us at Josie’s family home. She doesn’t look as meek as she did that day, but it’s her.
“Sarah,” Lilian says, using the same tone she had used for her teenage niece. “Now is not the time.”
Sarah frowns. “Now is exactly the time. I’ve watched so many of my sisters be murdered by Egan’s hands alone. One bad mood swing and he kills without a second thought.”
“And the rest of the werewolf packs are no better,” another woman adds.
“Where is the unity in that?” Sarah asks. “How could a spell that’s meant to bring balance end up royally screwing all the witches of the city? Why are we the ones left to suffer?”
“Sit down!” Lilian bangs a fist on the cypress trunk. “This is a discussion for another time.”
“No. Moon Witches are clinging to the echo of what our lives used to be in this city, but it’s never going to be the same. Even if we could—” Sarah cuts off suddenly, collapsing back in her chair.
Frantic fingers scratch at her throat as she chokes and winces.
“She can’t breathe,” Josie says, jumping up from her seat. “Sarah! Are you okay?”
Obviously she isn’t, but I’m not sure there is anything any of us can do to help her stop choking.
Her nails dig into the flesh of her neck as she struggles to catch her breath.
The moment Josie touches her, the magic of the spell hits her, and she glares at Lilian. “What are you doing to her? Stop this.”
The witches around the room look on in sympathy, but no one moves to help Sarah.
I look at Rune, and an unspoken understanding passes between us.
“She’s fine,” Lilian assures Josie, motioning for my mate to sit back down while placing a bony hand over Sarah’s on the table. “Aren’t you, dear?”
The spell releases with her touch and Sarah gasps and then forces a smile. “I’m fine.”
I shake my head. “You spelled your girls so they can’t speak about the amulets or anything relating to your plans.”
Lilian looks annoyed that I figured it out, but doesn’t deny it. “To ensure word doesn’t get back to the wrong ears. If Egan finds out what we are up to, he will kill us all.”
I study the sullen expressions of the women gathered, and their silence makes sense. The Moon Witches have endured so much to survive Egan these last twenty-five years.
