Chapter 11

The below-ground level of Fairchild Manor wasn’t at all like a typical basement, utilized for storage or even as a recreation room. Even though electrical wiring and plumbing ran throughout the mostly open, twelve-foot-high raftered ceiling, the dirt-floor basement had only one purpose — the casting of magic.

The main section of the basement was situated below the kitchen, dining room, and front parlor of the manor. But years and years of magical excavation had created a web of antechambers that extended far underneath the front lawns of the estate.

With their rough ceilings held up only by occasional wide beams and haphazardly placed posts, these dirt caves had once been filled with magical items, spells in progress, and even botched castings that had to be contained and walled off. But without even checking, I was quite certain that most of the basement would currently be bare. Lark and her family had stripped the estate of all ‘dark magic’ last January, following a directive I’d unintentionally given them. And it was highly unlikely that Jasper had managed to replace even a hundredth of what would have taken the Fairchilds centuries to accumulate and pass down from generation to generation.

That sanitizing, unfortunately, didn’t mean that the basement didn’t contain years of memories for Jasmine, Declan, and me. Including the last time we’d confronted Jasper in a bid for our personal freedom. Even though we hadn’t known that was what we were fighting for at the time.

Declan and I had simply tried to stop Jasper from harming Jasmine, perhaps even killing her. We had ended up breaking our uncle, confining him to a wheelchair, and splintering the coven. Or at least the younger generation of the coven. But now we were back, as rash as all the Fairchilds that had come before us — except we were fueled by morality rather than the desire to accumulate power.

But I knew that the darkest part of my soul would whisper fiercely if I paid it any heed — reminding me that vengeance was the fuel that propelled our righteousness.

I traversed the open wooden-tread stairs, one at a time. I was leading, with Jasmine, then Declan bringing up the rear. I didn’t bother fretting about being grabbed from between the steps, as I had every time I’d descended into the basement as a child. I could feel Jasper’s magic ahead of me, even before I’d set foot on the first stair.

Though the basement was wired with electric lights, Jasper had chosen to line the stairs and walls with white candles, except for the large circle he’d called forth in the very center of the main room. For that, he used four elemental candles — the same colored candles I carried always in my bag. I had learned just about everything I knew about manipulating magic from my uncle. As we all had.

I stepped off the bottom stair, removing my bag from my shoulder and placing it carefully against the wall. I wasn’t going to need it or anything it contained for the coming confrontation. There would be no time to call forth protection circles — or at least not carefully planned and placed ones.

Jasmine and Declan paused behind me on the last two stairs. The three of us took a moment to absorb the scene that Jasper had set for us.

My uncle was standing on the northern edge of his circle, before the green candle for earth. He and I shared that natural affinity. The circle that arced out around and behind him shimmered with magic and appeared empty. But I knew that he wouldn’t have constructed such a large circle if it wasn’t meant to hold something.

Jasper held his hands loosely clasped before him, smiling at us. He wore pale-blue jeans and a white T-shirt. His feet were bare and his cuffs were slightly rolled up, exposing his ankles. He appeared to have no difficulty standing. But then, I’d broken his back, not his legs. Magic stirred sleepily all around him, ruffling his wispy blond hair.

I transferred my attention momentarily to the only other person I could see or sense in the basement.

Rose.

My aunt was kneeling, positioned at an angle to Jasper but outside of his circle. Her pale-pink skirt was pooled prettily all around her, almost as if she’d arranged it that way. Or someone had shoved her down, abruptly and forcefully enough that she couldn’t get back up.

My aunt looked easily ten years older than she had in January. Her skin was sickly even in the soft glow of the candles. She caught sight of us, twisting her hands in a gesture so similar to the day she’d handed us back to Jasper that a terrible, wrenching pain shot through my chest. Jasmine, Declan, and I had come to our aunt under the guise of saving a rabbit, though we’d really been seeking refuge for ourselves. I had never forgiven her for letting Jasper take us back to the manor. I’d never forgiven her for everything that had happened afterward. Rose had been given that moment to rescue us, and she hadn’t even tried.

Still, I met her desperately hopeful gaze across the candlelit chamber and somehow knew it wasn’t her first visit to the basement. In that moment of connection, I saw her for the first time as an adult, understanding her actions as an adult might.

The healer of the Fairchild coven had been just as trapped as we three. Perhaps more so.

“Rose,” I whispered.

“Wisteria,” she cried. Then she pressed her hand to her chest, trying to moderate her reaction. She tried to smile. “I’m so sorry. Please, don’t —”

Jasper looked at her sharply. And for a brief moment, I could actually see a cord of darkly twisted magic connecting them.

Rose clamped her mouth shut. But not of her own volition.

Jasper’s control over my aunt wasn’t simply a manipulation of the coven magic, as it seemed to be with our parents. He had actually bound her with some sort of dark power.

Declan muttered something nasty behind me. He was putting the puzzle pieces together as quickly as I was.

Returning my gaze to Jasper, I took off my shoes again, one at a time, feeling the estate magic undulate beneath my bare feet.

Jasper frowned, most likely in response to feeling the estate and the house respond to my presence. Our presence.

I took a single step forward, giving Jasmine and Declan space behind me. I could hear them removing their own footwear.

“What have you done, Jasper?” I finally asked, though I knew deep in my soul that talking wasn’t going to get me anywhere. “To Rose? To get out of the wheelchair?”

“Well, you forced my hand. Didn’t you, my sweet?”

I stepped farther into the room, slowly moving toward the center opposite my uncle, but keeping a good twenty feet away from him.

Jasper’s gaze flicked to Jasmine on my left and Declan on my right as they kept pace with me.

“You should have had him cross you off the contract,” my uncle said.

“You started leeching from Rose long before I knew about any contract,” I said mildly, eyeing the connection I could see twisting between Jasper and Rose. I could try to sever it, but I had nothing with which to cut through magic. I’d never learned to manifest knives as my father could. And I couldn’t carry a sharp-edged artifact because I would eventually erode its magic.

“Come, children. Take your places at my side,” Jasper said, as if already annoyed at the casual conversation. “Together, we’ll be unstoppable. As we were always meant to be.”

“No one is stopping us from doing whatever we want, Jasper,” I said. “Except you. Whatever boundaries you wish to surmount, we will not be crossing them with you.”

Jasper eyed me. “I can simply take what I want, Wisteria,” he said. “Move you where I will, when I will it.”

“If that were true,” Declan said, “you would have done it a long time ago. No, Jasper. You might have been able to call forth enough coven magic to have bound us to the Conclave contract, but you can’t move against the three of us.” He shifted his feet on the dirt floor, deliberately picking one foot up at a time and placing it back down. “You don’t even wholly command the estate magic. We still share some of the connection.”

“An oversight I will correct immediately,” Jasper said, sounding utterly unruffled.

Jasmine tilted her head thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. Word on the street is that the house likes Wisteria better than you.”

Jasper pinned me with his washed-out blue gaze. “I’ll take care of that troublesome brownie as well.”

Jasmine barked out a laugh.

Declan and I looked at her.

“What?” she said. “You know Scooby-Doo.

“There were brownies in Scooby-Doo?”

“No … I … never mind,” Jasmine said. “Let’s just get back to vanquishing the evil overlord. We skipped breakfast. I’m getting hungry.”

Kett suddenly appeared before us. He was standing in front of me but slightly to the side, so as to not block my view of Jasper. My uncle eyed the vampire without any obvious reaction. He would have known Kett was on the estate and inside the house even before he appeared.

“The elders?” I asked.

Subdued.”

“But alive, right?” Jasmine asked nervously.

“Kettil,” Jasper said. “I had hoped you’d stay out of this.”

“You brought the situation to my attention when you had Yale kidnap witch children.”

Jasper waved offishly. “He’s an outsider whose transgression cannot be connected back to the Conclave.”

“The Convocation will not see it that way.”

Jasper smiled charmingly. “The Convocation will see what I show them.”

“Wisteria collected a reconstruction that ties you to the murder of Dawn Fairchild’s parents, and to her kidnapping.”

“Wisteria …” Jasper snapped, his composure momentarily slipping. “Wisteria will soon be brought into line.” He shook his head. “Enough. Vampire, none of this would have been necessary had you just made the correct decision more quickly.”

“That would have only delayed it,” I said. “It was always going to come to this. Us against you. It’s what you created us to do.”

“No,” my uncle said. “That’s what you created. But no matter. I will fix it.” He nodded to Kett. “And then we can discuss my remaking.”

“Oh, please,” Jasmine said. “You don’t think that Kett would —”

“This is witch business,” Jasper formally intoned, interrupting her. “Fairchild business. Your welcome here is rescinded.”

Magic slammed against Kett. The vampire leaned his shoulder into the onslaught, but his feet slid back in the dirt.

Reacting to the vampire’s natural resistance, or perhaps the resistance he’d gained through drinking my blood, the energy intensified, whipping around and between us.

I reached into the tornado, willing the estate magic to heed me. But it didn’t. It couldn’t disobey a direct command from Jasper.

Kett turned, reaching back for me. His eyes were flooded with the red of his magic, but vampire magic wasn’t going to counter witch magic in witch territory.

Our fingers brushed.

Then Kett was ripped from my grasp and dragged up the stairs. Ejected from the estate, as I had ejected Yale in January.

The whirlwind of magic ebbed, dissipating. Though oddly, I could still feel it as a light film on my hands, face, and forearms.

Jasper brushed his hands together with great satisfaction. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes.” He stretched his arms out to the sides. Magic rippled throughout his circle. The shimmer shifted, revealing three children. Ruby, Jack, and Dawn were lying spread-eagle in the dirt, seemingly insensible. They’d been deliberately arranged, their heads facing toward the center of the circle and their outstretched limbs not quite touching.

Rose made a pained noise.

Without any more boasting or grandstanding, Jasper stepped back into the circle, so that he stood between the children’s heads.

It was just the three of us against him now. And he wielded the combined power of the Fairchild coven, in addition to whatever spell he was powering with magic being leeched from the children.

The time for talking was done. We three were going to have to be enough.

“Declan,” I said. “I’ll need you to crack his shields. Then I’ll take them down.”

Declan nodded. He lifted his left hand and three small stones began spiraling just above his open palm. He already had his blasting rod in his right hand. The runes etched along its length pulsed with power.

Jasper closed his eyes, rolling his head back. He gathered the magic that hovered almost tangibly in the circle toward him, preparing some spell.

I pivoted, pacing around Jasmine and Declan and laying magic in my wake as I did so. “Jasmine,” I said, keeping my gaze on Jasper. “Grab Rose and get her into this circle. Or out of the basement altogether, if you can.”

“I’m not babysitting —”

“She’s tied to Jasper somehow,” I said, cutting off whatever rant she was about to launch. “Can you see it? You’re going to need to cut through the magic. Have you got something?”

Jasmine snapped her mouth closed, squinting in Rose’s direction. Then she started digging through her satchel. “I’ll rig something.”

I nodded, pausing in my circling to step back between them. I pulled layer upon layer of magic from the earth, quickly constructing a protection circle in a process similar to how I created my oyster-shell cubes.

Jasper slapped his hands together.

The three of us froze, steeling ourselves for whatever he was about to hit us with. But instead of casting, our uncle simply opened his eyes, which were now glowing a fierce blue. “Violet,” he whispered. “Dahlia. Grey. Slate.”

Magic boomed through his circle.

“What the hell?” Declan muttered.

“Summoning spell.” I felt slightly light-headed in response to the power that my uncle commanded so effortlessly.

My mother appeared just outside of Jasper’s circle, to the far right. She swayed on her feet, then collapsed to her knees.

I knew the feeling. Pearl Godfrey had once transported me from Vancouver to London, and it had taken me a week to feel like I was no longer inside out. Of course, Pearl had needed my explicit permission in order to move me at all. Jasper had simply whispered, and my mother appeared.

Declan swore nastily. “With just their first names?”

Dahlia appeared. Jasmine’s mother landed directly on her back. She appeared to be still unconscious as a result of our breaking her wards.

“Go,” I said to Jasmine. “Now. He’s gathering them for a reason.”

“To bind us,” Declan muttered.

Grey and Slate appeared at the same time, each beside his wife. The basement air was heavy with magic. Almost suffocating. Grey kept his footing, but he looked as though he could use a blood transfusion. Which, depending on how much Kett had taken in order to subdue him, was probably accurate.

Slate bent over and threw up.

Stepping out from the protection circle I’d cast for Jasmine and Rose, I gathered all the magic I could hold toward me, fueling my bracelet. There was so much power in the air that I didn’t even need to tap into the estate and the house.

Jasmine dashed across the basement for Rose.

Declan tossed a series of his spelled stones toward Jasper’s circle.

Violet covered her face and shrieked as Declan’s magic exploded above her. Grey threw himself over Dahlia.

I thrust all the magic I’d gathered toward the circle in a messy, haphazard push, counting on whatever cracks Declan had made to be enough to get me through Jasper’s shields.

Then Jasmine slammed against an invisible wall about a foot from Rose. She stumbled, falling soundlessly onto the dirt with blood pouring from her nose.

Declan’s magic rained down over all the elders’ heads. The candlelit air between us and Jasper cleared.

Magic rippled across my uncle’s circle. It appeared pristine, undamaged.

Jasmine made it to her feet, scrambling back toward us. Declan stepped out of my protection circle, grabbing her and dragging her back.

I didn’t take my gaze off Jasper. Or step back into the circle.

My uncle smirked at me. “You’re out of practice, my sweet Wisteria.”

My stomach soured, and I struggled to keep my creeping fear from my face.

“Get up, my siblings,” Jasper said. “Up, up. On your feet. It’s time to unify the coven. It’s time to bring the children back into the fold.”

My mother gained her feet, glaring at her brother. “This wasn’t what we discussed, Jasper.”

He waved a hand in my direction. “You’ll need to take that up with your daughter.” Magic rolled through his words as he spoke. “Now … take your place …”

Violet flinched. And for a brief moment, I watched her struggle to shake off the compulsion Jasper had just hit her with. Then she pivoted, stepping forward and pausing as if awaiting more instructions.

She pinned her gaze on me, gritting her teeth. Sorrow and regret flitted across her face.

My heart pinched, but I brushed the emotion away. Her concern was too late. Too little.

“Everyone else,” Jasper said. “Come, come. The vampire is rather dutifully trying to break through the outer wards. I don’t need to be waging a war on two fronts.”

Rose started weeping.

“Damn you, Jasper,” Grey snarled. He attempted to help Dahlia, barely conscious now, to her feet. “You can’t make us fight our own children.”

“I don’t need you to fight, Grey. I just need you to contribute your magic and your blood ties. I’ll do the rest.”

And triggered by Grey’s words, I understood suddenly what I needed to do. It all became crystal clear.

It was rash and it was dangerous. But only for me. I turned my back on Jasper, catching the start of his confused look as I did so.

If, on some level, our parents did still care for us — enough to pull their punches when we faced off at the front door, enough to curse and rail against Jasper’s manipulation of the coven bonds — then perhaps I could unify that tenuous connection for just long enough to break Jasper’s hold on them.

Reaching for Jasmine, I whispered so only she and Declan could hear me. “He can’t make them kill us. They can break the compulsion. Together, they’re strong enough. They just need the right push.”

Jasmine frowned, but she took my hand unquestioningly. I turned to face the elders again.

Slate stepped into place beside my mother without being commanded to do so by Jasper. “Don’t make this worse than it needs to be, Wisteria,” my father pleaded. “This isn’t worth dying for.”

“You were saying?” Declan asked wryly.

Ignoring my father, I wrapped my other hand around Declan’s.

“Screw you, Jasper.” Dahlia finally found her voice, though she was still leaning heavily on Grey’s shoulder.

I closed my eyes, reaching out with my magic and through Jasmine’s and Declan’s power, ignoring everything else.

“What are you doing?” Declan asked.

I didn’t answer as residual magic stirred around us. Layers upon layers. Years and years of spells. Years and years of my, Jasmine, and Declan’s collective childhood imprinted in the darkness, seared into the dirt underneath our feet.

Whispers rose at my bidding, brushing against me. Caressing me.

“What are you doing?” Jasmine cried.

I opened my eyes. The magic I’d called forth danced around us in vibrant streaks of blue.

Momentarily distracted by my change in tactics, Jasper was frowning at me.

I looked at my parents. They were frightened, worried. “I should have dragged you down here twelve, thirteen years ago. I should have shown you. Shown you what is worth dying for.”

“No …” Jasmine whispered.

I wasn’t sure whether it was compassion for our parents or fear for me that made my cousin speak, but I had already called the reconstruction spell forward. Without my candles, without any boundaries. Magic poured out of me, fueling all the residual in my immediate surroundings.

“Get the kids,” I said. “Take our parents out of play. I’ll keep Jasper busy.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Declan snarled.

“Declan, please. Just get the children out of here.”

I didn’t wait for his response. The magic wouldn’t let me hold it back any longer. I dropped Declan’s and Jasmine’s hands, lifting my palms toward Jasper, toward the elders. Toward the past, where it was ready to spring forth all around me. I opened myself up to it. I poured myself into it.

Reconstruction after reconstruction came into being all around us. Echoes of our childhood. Echoes of the three of us from ages nine to sixteen. Echoes of everything Jasper had ever made us do, everything he’d ever done to us.

Including him holding a knife to Jasmine’s neck, on an altar that had reappeared in the middle of the room right in front of our parents.

Jasmine made a terrible pained noise, but I didn’t stop. I allowed all the terrible moments of abuse to manifest. I watched Declan and me charging in, fighting Jasper. Pulling Jasmine from the altar.

Dahlia cried out. My father shouted something. But I couldn’t listen. I wouldn’t soften or apologize.

“Get ready,” I whispered, heedless of the tears streaming down my face.

Jasmine placed her hand on my back at the same time as Declan placed his on my shoulder.

“Stop this at once,” Jasper snapped, gathering his own magic toward him so that it pooled in his hands. “You’ll only burn yourself out, Wisteria. Reconstructions are utterly benign.”

“But the power of three isn’t benign, is it, Uncle?” I shouted over him, raising my arms to encompass the dozens upon dozens of reconstructions I’d called forth. Dozens of Declans, Jasmines, and Wisterias. Dozens of images of Jasper. Layers and layers of residual magic.

Declan whirled his blasting rod in his right hand.

Jasmine reached out to the ceiling, toward the electrical wiring.

Power twisted back and forth between us, shared magic building around and through us in a tightly wound coil. The estate magic responded, surging beneath our feet.

I kept my gaze glued to Jasper. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Then I pressed forward with our combined magic, wordlessly commanding the residual that I’d called forth.

The reconstructions stopped moving, stopped repeating.

“We never needed you, though.” With a deliberate swipe of my hand, all the echoes of Jasper disappeared. With another push of intention, all the echoes of Declan, Jasmine, and Wisteria shifted. They stood shoulder to shoulder, arrayed before us like soldiers.

I shouldn’t have been able to manipulate the residual in such a way. But Jasper had made us. Had combined us into something more powerful than any one witch should be.

“Oh my God …” Violet said.

Jasper snarled, raising his hands toward us. They pulsed with dark-blue energy.

Jasmine reached out with her magic and tore the electrical wires from the ceiling.

Then, as one, we attacked.

Declan hurled his blasting rod like a club toward Jasper. Jasmine slammed the live wires against the circle, hitting multiple points all at once. And I marched the reconstructions over our parents.

Magic exploded through the basement.

The foundations of the house shook.

Wood splintered.

The air sizzled.

Our parents scattered, throwing themselves to the sides.

And Jasper’s circle cracked.

Before the magic cleared, I ran straight for Jasper with Jasmine on my left and Declan on my right. The reconstructions of ourselves, the echoes of our childhood, ran with us.

One of the girls trapped in the circle with Jasper started screaming, then the other. The children had woken. But I blocked out the sound. I had one job. Jasper. I had to let Jasmine and Declan see to everything else.

An orb of magic flew toward me, most likely whatever spell Jasper had been preparing. As I sidestepped it, Declan actually punched whatever Jasper had thrown out of the air.

More magic exploded. Our parents were suddenly scrambling around us, shouting. Slate stepped into my path, but before I could assess if he was acting as friend or foe, Jasmine hit him with something that took him down and left him convulsing.

My reconstructions poured into Jasper’s circle through the crack that Declan and Jasmine had made. Still running, I slammed my right palm and all the magic I’d gathered in my bracelet into the damaged circle.

Magic boomed throughout the basement, knocking everyone but Jasper and me to the ground.

“Impressive,” Jasper said, smiling proudly. He was holding the knife he’d used to kill Bluebell. When he caught me looking at it, his smile widened.

Though I couldn’t see them, I could feel Jasmine and Declan gaining their feet behind me. The children had scrambled together for protection near the white candle on the eastern edge of the circle, wrapping their arms around each other but not making a sound. The two older kids, Jack and Ruby, had Dawn sandwiched between them.

My reconstructions filled every other inch of the space, creating a path between my uncle and me. They were waiting for instructions.

I smiled at the children. Then I stepped into the broken circle.

Jasper laughed. “Mistake number one, Wisteria.”

Magic churned as the circle sealed closed behind and around me. Jasper had resurrected the boundary, hoping to cut me off from Declan and Jasmine.

I raised my fists. Magic boiled in my right hand and all around my bracelet. “Actually, Uncle,” I said coolly. “It’s all going exactly as planned.”

He frowned.

“You’ve forgotten,” I said. “The estate remembers. And the house likes me better.”

Lark appeared behind Jasper, moving through his hastily restored circle without apparent effort. I didn’t know whether she could do so because she was tied to me, or because Jasper hadn’t thought to ward himself against brownie magic. She moved toward the children, pressing her finger to her lips to caution them to remain quiet. Then she fished a blade from her pocket and sliced into the circle, just above the white candle.

Jasper spun toward her. I punched him in the kidneys. Well, where his kidneys would have been if he hadn’t been shielded.

He whirled to face me, livid as he slashed his knife across where my neck should have been. Except I’d danced back.

Lark finished cutting a hole in the circle. Declan appeared on the other side of the opening, silently coaxing Dawn to crawl out toward him.

Jasper slashed the blade at me a second time, drawing my attention back to him. He hit the shield I was trying to hold between us, knocking me sideways. I spun, falling to one knee.

I called the reconstructions to me, gathering them all around me while I shook off Jasper’s blow. They were so infused with my magic that I had practically given them mass.

Jasper slashed fruitlessly at the echoes, at every Declan, every Jasmine, every Wisteria. Panting with the effort, he then backed off, pausing to gather more magic.

On the other side of the barrier, Declan passed Dawn to Grey, then kneeled back down, reaching for Ruby. I risked a glance over my shoulder, looking for Jasmine and finding her and Violet helping Rose up the stairs.

I pulled my attention back to Jasper as I slowly made it to my feet.

“Wisteria Elizabeth Marie Fairchild,” Jasper intoned. “Come to me.”

Jasper’s compulsion hit me hard, driving me back against the edge of the circle and pinning me there. The spell ripped through my shield, digging into my skin.

My vision became muddy. The reconstructions pressed against me, incapable of helping.

Jasper laughed, stepping closer.

Somewhere beyond the circle, Jasmine screamed my name.

“Jasmine …” I gasped my cousin’s name. Then I pinned my gaze to my uncle’s. “You can’t have me, Jasper. I already belong to someone else. Two someones. You made it so.”

The magic released me, and I fell forward onto my hands and knees. The reconstructions pressed against me, trying to help me get up.

Jasper snarled. But instead of pressing his advantage, he spun around, stalking back to where Jack was trying to crawl through the hole in the circle.

I tried to scream a warning to the boy, but still fighting the residual of the compulsion spell, I couldn’t manage more than a shrill shriek.

Declan appeared on the other side of the circle, grabbing Jack’s arms just as Jasper grabbed his leg. Jasper thrust his hand forward, slamming some sort of spell through the hole in the circle. It hit Declan in the chest, and he tumbled out of my sight.

Jasper dragged Jack back from the hole into the center of the circle. The boy silently fought him every inch of the way, battering Jasper’s shields with wild magic as he clawed at the dirt.

I gained my feet again, already gathering my shredded shields.

Jasper flipped the boy onto his back, holding him pinned in place with the magic he wielded so effortlessly. He raised his knife over Jack’s chest. Then he looked at me.

“Let’s see you shake this off.”

Lark appeared between him and the boy.

I lunged forward, pummeling Jasper with the reconstructions. But even as I did, I knew I was going to be too late.

The knife arced forward, then down.

Jack wrapped his hand around Jasper’s bare ankle, hitting him with some sort of wildly conjured spell. It barely touched my uncle, but it slowed him.

Gathering the ragged edges of my magic around me in the strongest shield I could conjure, I threw myself between Jasper and Lark.

Jasper’s knife hit my shield.

The brownie grabbed the boy, dragging him away.

The blade sliced through all the magic I held against it. Jasper’s washed-out blue eyes widened, his anger transforming into surprise. His shoulders shifted, as if he might be trying to take the edge off his blow.

The knife caught me just underneath the rib cage, then buried itself to the hilt in my flesh.

Jasper gasped.

I looked down at the blade protruding out of me. “You always were too powerful,” I mumbled.

“Wisteria …” my uncle whispered in disbelief.

Pain exploded through my torso, radiating through my chest and stomach, then down my legs. The magic that the blade carried was more deadly than the wound itself.

I stumbled back. The reconstructions pressed against me, holding me upright.

“Wisteria!” Jasper cried, reaching for me.

“No!” I slapped him back with a desperate pulse of magic. “You don’t get to touch me.” I reached down and wrapped my hand around the hilt of the knife.

“Don’t touch that, Wisteria!” Panic laced Jasper’s command as he reached out to the circle and tore the barrier down. “Rose! Rose!”

I could smell smoke suddenly. Something was on fire. Heedless, I pulled out the knife.

“No!” Jasper lunged for me.

The reconstructions welled up around us, momentarily holding him at bay.

I held the knife aloft, blood dripping from the blade. My blood. I could feel the magic contained within it. So much underutilized power.

“This wasn’t … this can’t be …” Jasper was muttering, pressing against the reconstructions.

“I’m dying,” I said calmly. “I can feel my magic shifting. And I know how that feels because of you, Jasper. Because of when you killed Bluebell.”

“Listen to me carefully, Wisteria,” my uncle said, ignoring me. “Gather the magic of the estate around you. Don’t move, don’t expend any more energy. I’ll summon Rose.”

“It’s going to be okay, Jasper. Because I’m going to take you with me. And then Jasmine and Declan will be free.” I laughed harshly. “Free of both of us.”

The reconstructions flew at Jasper, dissolving against the shields he held around him in a glittering display. He stumbled back, but they were just a distraction. I could never broach his shields with just the echoes of magic.

I reached for and claimed the power of my own life essence. I gathered it, readying one word, packing all the magic I could into a single name.

“Jasper …” I whispered.

Magic was ripped from me, tearing through my uncle’s shield and breaking his back a second time.

He screamed as he crumpled to the ground.

I stumbled toward him, falling, the knife still in my hand. I dragged myself up his body until I could lock eyes with him.

“Goodbye, Uncle,” I whispered.

He gurgled something in pain.

Then I slit his throat. Blood streamed out of him, spraying across my hands and forearms.

I pushed back from him as I tried to stand, but I made it only to my knees. I lost hold of the knife. Magic twisted through me, claiming my own death.

And it hurt. It burned.

No. It was the basement that was ablaze.

I looked across the chamber, seeing Declan, Jasmine, and Jack still at the base of the stairs. Except there weren’t any stairs that I could see. The walls and much of the ceiling were on fire. No sort of protection, magical or otherwise, had ever been applied to the old wooden beams and posts, the open rafters. The basement floor was dry dirt, no hint of moisture in the air. Nothing would contain the blaze.

Declan was trying to clear a path through the burning rubble that had swallowed the stairwell. Jasmine had turned back, looking for me. She spotted me kneeling next to Jasper.

Him dead. And me dying.

I smiled at her. It was all I could do.

She screamed, trying to shove Jack into Declan’s arms so she could run to me.

I frowned, all my thoughts made distant by the pain searing through me. Jasmine and Declan … they were going to die down here … with me and Jasper.

That hadn’t been the plan.

I pressed my hands into the blood still pouring from my uncle, effortlessly harnessing his life essence.

“Wisteria!” Jasmine screamed again, trying now to run through the fire that had swiftly shifted to rage between us. Declan grabbed her before she could hurt herself. Jack’s face was streaked with tears and soot.

“I love you …” I said. Then, with Jasper’s magic pooled in my hands, I visualized picking Jasmine, Declan, and Jack up and placing them gently down in the orchard, right beside the rabbit hutch we’d built so many years ago. Right where I knew they’d be safe.

The magic obeyed me without question, gathering around them.

Jasmine screamed. “No!”

“I love you,” I whispered again.

They disappeared.

I had only the fire for company now. But that didn’t matter, because I was done. I had given up. I’d given in. I slipped forward across Jasper without even bothering to stop my fall.

And death was warm … comfortable … peaceful

I reached for the darkness eagerly waiting for my soul, ready to greet me as an old friend.