Page 87 of Rogue Witch

“No one returns from Shadow Hell,” I say. “Unless…. Fuck,” I whisper. “If she manages to open the Hell Gates, then everyone in Shadow Hell will be freed, including Grams. If she’s not dead, then she can travel through Hell and return to the living.”

I drop onto my ass. “Can we open the Hell Gates through Shadow Hell?”

Stony gives a loud squeal.

“I know it’s nuts,” I shoot back. “But is it possible?” I lock gazes with Stony. “Do you think the god of the angels really is locked in Hell?” Another thought hits. “She’s been dead—gone—for about three months. If she was successful, wouldn’t we know by now?”

Stony shakes her head. “Who knows.”

I stand and walk around the hole. “You know the Grand Witch will never risk herself to save Grams.”

Stony snorts loudly.

“Okay, she’ll never risk herself to save any of us.”

“You can’t rescue her,” Stony says in perfect English.

“Probably not,” I reply. “I don’t have any Shadows.”

Or do I?

I resist the urge to touch my chest where the Shadows entered my body. I didn’t tell Stony that part. I haven’t told anyone that part. If the Shadows are inside me, then I can use them. Fuck a duck. I’ve hated Grams for using Shadow magic, now I’m considering doing the same. No, it’s not the same. I’m not looking for Shadows to use. If they’re inside me, then they’re a part of me. But they’re not inside of me. The Reaping is another plane of existence that intersects with our dimension only to snatch us up. Nothing from there can come here. Right? I’ve never heard anyone say anything from the Reaping can come here. What if Grams didn’t reach Shadow Hell? What if she ended up somewhere else altogether? But where?

I stop circling the hole. A sense of dread ripples through my midsection.

“Time to go?” Stony snorts.

I release a breath. “Yeah.”

She trots over to me, then shifts into a mouse. I scoop her up, then deposit her into my hoodie pocket. I turn, then freeze. Chelsea is standing at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans. A woman, at least ten years older than the teenager, steps from the last stair onto the concrete floor.

I frown. How did they get all the way down the stairs without me hearing them? Dammit. Grams replaced the stairs and they don’t creak even the tiniest bit. I look from Chelsea to the older woman. It’s strange enough that Chelsea is here, but the older women’s presence explains my unease.

“What are you doing here, Chelsea?” I demand.

“Did you think you could hide?” she sneers. “I should have known you would return here. Like grandmother like granddaughter.” She looks at the other woman. “You wanted proof. She’s right here where Miriam was when she died practicing her blasphemous magic.”

“What the hell?” I blurt, then I understand. “The lightning bolt wasn’t an accident.”

“The only accident was that I missed.” She steps toward me.

I will my speeding heart to slow and take step to the side, keeping the hole between us. “You tried to kill me in Ethan’s class.”

Her eyes narrow. “You were all but dead. How did he save you?”

She suspects Raith helped me. “Too bad I saved your life instead of the guy who got hung,” I say.

Stony stirs inside my pocket. Easy, I telepath. The two women have no idea the danger they’re in if they threaten me. Where my safety is concerned, Stony takes no prisoners.

“How did you know I was here?” I ask.

Chelsea reaches into the front of her shirt and pulls out a chain with a crystal pendant. “Easy.”

“You sure as hell didn’t use that to get past my grandmother’s wards,” I say, but I know Gram’s wards have weakened significantly. Why hadn’t I set up my own wards?

“Maybe Miriam wasn’t as powerful a witch as everyone thinks she was,” Chelsea says.

“You had your say,” I snap. “Now get the fuck out.”