Page 79 of Rogue Witch

An hour later, Penelope Benedict has used her considerable ability to trace Chelsea’s trail over the south wall.

“How the bloody hell did she elude the Watchmen?” I demand of Cromwell, but know her escape isn’t his fault. It’s not even the Watchmen’s fault. Students rarely sneak out of The Academy—they understand the penalties—so we don’t add extra patrols to keep them in. Keeping attackers out is the real goal. “Double the Watchmen guard,” I order Cromwell.

The three of us hurry toward the Admin building, where our cars are parked.

“I’ve got to follow the girl,” I say.

“She’s probably headed home,” Penelope says in her light Portuguese accent.

“Maybe, but if anything happens to her, Lady Nightlow will cause problems,” I say.

“I’ll go with you,” Penelope says.

“Excellent. We’ll go straightaway. Cromwell, please report our findings to Raith and let him know I’m looking for Chelsea.”

At the administration building, Cromwell continues inside while Penelope and I head to my car, parked in the parking garage attached to the admin building.

Half an hour later, my blood runs cold when I realize where Chelsea is headed.

The potionary.

“Hold on,” I tell Penelope, and step on the gas as we round the curve in the road.

Chapter Thirty-One

LEILAH

I turn my head so I can see Stony snoring softly on the carpeted floor nearby. The movie is still playing on my phone. I return my gaze to the ceiling, then close my eyes and release a deep breath. Thank god Stony’s asleep. This was a bona fide dream. Still, I’d rather not tell Stony about it. I open my eyes. Given that Raith told me Seton is the Greek demigod Tychon, I’m not surprising I dreamt about him.

I want to believe Raith lied about Seton being Tychon, but I know he didn’t lie. Raith is a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. I told myself the gods often involve themselves in the lives of humans and that Seton simply decided he liked me, but I can’t help wondering why me? A memory surfaces and I draw in a sharp breath, then look quickly to be sure I haven’t woken Stony. She doesn’t stir.

In my dream, Seton told me that the Wall hadn’t named him as a High Potential, but that Grams nominated him. I search my memory but find no reference to such a thing ever happening and come up empty. What a strange thing for him to tell me.

I sit up. I’m being stupid. Dreams are weird. That’s all. I stand and scoop up the phone. I really don’t want to think about Seton right now. If he did show up on my doorstep, I honestly don’t know what I would do. I need time to process…whatever this is.

I jab the screen of my phone and turn off the movie. I shove the phone into my back pocket and grab Grams’ spell book from my coat pocket, then head upstairs. At my room, I stop. The door stands open as it had been the last time I was here. I hadn’t expected anything to change, but I suddenly wonder if I can work here. It’s just so strange to see the room look the same as when I lived here.

“Stop being such a coward,” I mutter, and enter the room.

I glance from the bed to the desk, then decide on the desk. With a deep breath, I sit in the chair and lay the spell book on the desk, open to the first page. I pull my phone from my back pocket, open the camera, then lean back and begin reading the picture of page two in the spell book.

I considered telling the other witches who fought with us during that last Shadow battle what we learned during that battle, but they would believe me even less now than they would have then.

I draw a sharp breath. The last Shadow battle? Is she referring to the battle The Three fought? No, it couldn’t be. I never heard that. She never told me she’d been there. Would she have told me?

“Dammit, Grams. One of these days I’m going to figure out how to raise you from the dead. Then you’ll answer my questions.”

I continue reading.

I wouldn’t have thought the bond we witches shared during that last battle could be broken, especially our bond, Olympia.

Olympia was there, too?

I glance at the book laying open on the desk. It’s the size of an average spell book, smaller than a mass market paperback. Each page is roughly large enough for an average spell. I’ve only looked at two pages, but so far not even a tiny spell. Is this a journal? I pick up the book and flip through the pages until the writing stops a quarter of the way through the book. Shit, even as a journal there’s not much here. I set the book back on the desk and read the next line.

The most important thing is that I’ve found a way into Hell.

“What the fuck?” I blurt.