Chapter Nineteen

TAKING HER TIME, Briar wandered the city. She grabbed a coffee and a chocolate scone and continued walking until she was outside the book shop. Ursula was inside, bent over something, her red hair fanned across the counter. She stood straight and headed for the window, paper and tape in her hand. She stopped when she spotted Briar.

“Hey!” She pushed the door open with her hip. “How have you been?”

“Oh.” Briar frowned. “Not great. Sorry I’ve been…absent.”

“It’s nothing.” Ursula waved her concerns away. “You set it up to run pretty smoothly. The new guy is good too. I was thinking about doing some more events.” She held up the papers in her hand—an announcement for a book signing.

“Yeah.” Briar nodded. “Absolutely. You’ve always been good at promotions. I’m going to try to be here more but I trust you. I was just walking by and wanted to check in. Grab a few things from my desk.”

“Of course. It’s your place.” She put up the sign in the window, then held the door open for Briar. Hiring Ursula had been one of Briar’s best decisions for the bookstore. She had been young and inexperienced but there was a fire in her eyes and Briar knew she had a passion for books. Her gut had been right; now Ursula ran the shop with a sharp eye and amazing instincts for business.

Briar thanked her again before she headed to her office, hoping she could hear the sincerity in her voice. Her office was just as she had left it. It only took a minute of rummaging through drawers to find a notebook with the names of book dealers listed inside in tidy rows. The updated list was at her house. This one was from when she first started collecting, before she’d gotten better at picking the right books for what she wanted—then anything on the history of the Gods would do.

Now she wanted spell books and those were often different sellers entirely. She wondered if the numbers would still work or if they’d take her calls. Probably, her pockets were still deep enough to open doors.

With the notebook in her purse, she looked around. She missed this place. She’d been good at running the bookstore, or at least good at finding amazing employees. Her aunt had rolled her eyes at their starting salary but Briar had known they were worth it. She wanted them to stay, to enjoy working for her.

Ursula was still here; she must have done something right. But Briar worried if she stayed, if she tried to run the business from this office again, she’d just bring trouble to them. No one here deserved any of the danger that came with knowing Briar.

She snuck out as unnoticed as she could, silencing the ring of the bell with a wave of her hand, just as Evaria had once done. Evaria might know more about spells, her family was old. They’d once been titled before the fall of Velorian, or at least that’s what Evaria had told her. She’d already offered her library. Briar had every excuse to go.

But she knew what a visit to Evaria would lead to because Briar was weak and terrified. And lonely. She’d spent her life surrounded by laughter and excess and now she didn’t know what to do. Her aunt was dead. Fauna wasn’t speaking to her. Lillia didn’t want her and Soren was probably going to get himself killed trying to trick Eliana.

She couldn’t visit Evaria, at least not until she felt less like she was drowning. She had to do better—be a person worth Soren’s sacrifice.

So she kept walking, winding through the streets of the city until her feet ached in her shoes. Sweat dripped down her skin, dampening the hair at the base of her neck. It would be summer soon; the city would be packed with tourists and students on holiday. The restaurants would be harder to get into, the clubs would be wild.

Most years, Briar loved summer. She loved the tiny dresses and the tall shoes that let her tower over all the men. She loved whole days spent at the beach until her skin was brown. The way it felt to nap with salt in her hair and wake up unsure if hours or days had passed.

This year she didn’t know what waited for her. She didn’t know who waited for her. There would be no parties on boats or popping bottles of bubbly. Only long nights alone.

She knew where she was going now and that it was probably a bad idea, but they were bound together by circumstance. She knew she would be annoyed at best, angry at worst, but anything was better than loneliness.

No one was outside when she walked up the streets. No children playing. No aunties yelling. Just the din of cars on the main street, a yell from somewhere far away. Her mouth went dry as she saw the old house. The porch with the light still on. The fence out front.

Before her, Lillia had a real life, full of people who truly loved her. Nieces and nephews. Cousins. Family. She should have never come to that party. She would be so much better off if she had never met Briar.

Before she knocked, she hesitated, wondering if this was a terrible idea. When she finally did, silver symbols glowed on the doorway, reminding Briar of everything she’d missed out on. She was Cordelia’s descendant and she didn’t know a damn thing about witchcraft.

Lillia looked beautiful. She had on shorts and a cropped black top that tied around her neck. A scarf was wrapped around her hair but strands of curls had escaped, framing her face. She arched an eyebrow and leaned against the doorframe.

“You look like hell. When’s the last time you slept?”

“Fauna knows I tried to kill her mother.”

Lillia’s face contorted in confusion, then she pressed her palm to the doorframe. It glowed gold, and she stepped back, allowing Briar into her house. She walked to her kitchen in silence and pulled a pitcher of tea out of her fridge and poured them both a glass.

Condensation had already formed by the time Briar wrapped her fingers around the glass and brought it to her lips. She took a sip while Lillia watched her curiously. “She summoned Lorcus and he gave us away after the funeral.”

“We got the wards right this morning. I was going to call you. I can come to your condo later.” She locked eyes with Briar and set down her glass. “I’m sure it was hard to choose your aunt. You’ve been put in an impossible position. I laid in bed last night wondering what I would do if it were up to me. I just ended up thankful I don’t have the power you do.” She sighed and pulled the scarf off her head, letting her hair tumble free. “But if it were my mom…”

“You’d hate me.”

Lillia nodded. “I would. My mom died when I was little and my grams died when I was older. No one killed either of them and I was still furious.”

Briar stood, overwhelmed by the truth of it. If she was in Fauna’s position she didn’t know if she’d forgive anyone for killing her mother, and her relationship with her mother was much more tenuous than Fauna and Vestia’s had been. She retreated to the dining room, but she had no right to roam this home anymore. Still, she pulled out one of the wooden chairs and sat. She shouldn’t be here but she’d stay until Lillia kicked her out. She couldn’t be by herself. Terrible thoughts lingered near the edges of her mind and she had to find a way to keep them at bay.

Lillia rummaged in the kitchen for a while before she emerged with a plate of crackers and slices of cheese and sat them on the table in front of Briar. “Eat.” She tapped a finger on the plate. “I’ve been rounding up books, but I want them to stay here. I know these wards work and I know magic better than you.” She didn’t wait for a response before she walked away.

Briar put her head in her hands, letting the events of the last few days replay once again in her mind, but she didn’t try to make sense of them, she just let them run through her. Everything was moving too fast, and Briar knew that sometimes if you were stuck in a current the best thing was to let it wash you away, not fight it. Eventually her toes would touch sand and she would find a way back to shore.

When she returned, Lillia’s arms were loaded with books. Some of them were old, leather-bound tomes but some were newer, spiral notebooks with tattered pages. The spell books of generations of Orivius witches, those who had kept faith in the magic that had always been here, those who had not come to rely on the tainted magic of the Gods.

Witches, pure and true.

Maybe her toes would find ground sooner than she anticipated. “Do you think there’s a way to get rid of Eliana without a sacrifice? I don’t mean something the Gods are hiding, I mean magic without them. Something like your wards, the old magic of the world.”

Lillia sat across from Briar, the expanse of the wood table between them, and shrugged. “I’ve never seen anything like that. But I don’t know everything. I’ve never looked.”

“But is it possible?” She pulled a book across the table to her—a newer notebook. The outside was wrapped in thin fabric and there was a ribbon bookmark stuck in the middle.

Lillia shrugged again. “Maybe, but how many shots do you think you’ll have? Vestia died for this.”

“I know that.” Briar’s jaw ached from grinding her teeth. “But it’s Soren’s life too. I don’t want to do what they say, I want to kill her, because banishing her isn’t enough—but can we look at other things too. Please. I can’t sacrifice Soren.”

“Oh.” Lillia chewed on her lip, her eyes looking everywhere but at Briar, then she stood up and opened the china cabinet behind her table. She pushed aside a gold-flecked bowl and pulled out a dusty book. “According to my family’s legends, Ortus used to visit us frequently. This was from one of his favorites and it has spells on hiding from the thrall of Gods. It’s where our wards came from. I looked it over when you ran off with Soren. Those spells are nearly identical to the ones in the Book of Bindings but there are others. If the spell Cordelia used is lost to history this is the closest to answers you’ll get. But I didn’t see anything to kill a God. It’s just wards and protection spells, nothing aggressive.”

Lillia didn’t believe in Briar’s plan. She didn’t think she’d find a way to stop Eliana without losing Soren. It was written all over her face. Briar took the book and sat it on top of the others. “My mother is in town. I can ask her what she knows.”

A fact she had been avoiding. Her mother knew more than she let on.

“Or accept the cost.” Lillia looked out of the window. “Stop trying to outsmart the Gods, Briar. Just get rid of her.”

Briar could not disguise the disgust twisting her features. “That’s easy for you to say. You aren’t paying the cost.”

Lillia’s shoulders tensed. “Your mother isn’t going to have answers. She told you what she knew. The Gods have told you what they know. You tried to best her and your aunt died. We failed.”

“I know that!” Briar stood up and started to walk toward Lillia. “But what’s the difference in coming up with this spell or another? We don’t know what we’re doing. We don’t know if it’ll work. The best we’ve come up with for getting close to her is for Soren to try to get close to Bastianna again and use it to get information on Eliana. How will we even get near her to do the spell? Whatever plan I choose I worry we’ll all end up dead.”

Slowly Lillia turned. The wet tracks of tears stained her cheeks. “I can reach out to Bastianna too. She likes me better than Soren. I’ll tell her some lie about what you’re doing, say I’m scared or whatever. See what I can learn.”

“It’s dangerous. If she finds out you’re lying—”

“You just said it, none of us are going to survive this. You need to actually accept it. You’re smart, Briar. You can’t believe any of us will walk away from this. All we can hope for is to go down swinging.”

The truth of her words stung and Briar could not accept them. She could not watch Eliana pick off her friends one by one. They were floundering, offering wild suggestions, each one less likely to work than the last. She was a Goddess. She was the Prime Minister. She had all the power and they had none.

“The Gods want me to return them to power, to let them walk amongst us. They say when I send her to them I can open the gate and let them through again. Return it to how it was. I can’t do that though.”

“Why? For once in your life, why don’t you just listen to people who know more than you and accept the truth?”

“Because they’re monsters. They’ve taken everything from me. Everything I thought my life would be is gone. My aunt is dead. They took you—”

“The Gods didn’t take me, Briar! You lost me because I can’t trust you. All we have is this trauma between us. Just figure out the spell and try to end this. Stop looking for a way out.”

Briar took a step back, fighting against the power building inside her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I won’t accept it? I was going to kill my aunt. I was willing to do that. I’m doing everything. I could walk away, I could say screw this and just let her be. I want a way out because unlike you, I care if Soren dies. Unlike you, I’m not going to just roll over. You have no idea what it’s like to be the one who makes the decisions. I haven’t seen you try to step up. You aren’t Soren, offering to die. You won’t be the one doing the spell. You’re just a coward.”

Lillia laughed and the sound ripped through Briar’s chest. “Don’t forget who saved you last time, when you were too weak to free yourself.” She palmed the stack of books on the table and shoved, sending them flying at Briar. “How fucking hard can the spell be? You know how they work, you know they’re intuitive. Sacrifice me. Sacrifice Soren. Slit your own fucking wrists. Just end it, Briar. I’m tired. I’m so tired. Who cares if the Gods come back? Do you really think we’ll be here to see this through?”

Briar raked her fingers through her hair, gripping the strands. Nothing was working out like it should. But she could feel the truth of Lillia’s words. She had spells to distract a God, spells to hide from a God. They all required a trade. A bit of blood. A lock of hair. A vial of tears. It wasn’t the words; it was the sacrifice. A life for a life. A few tweaks and a lot of blood and Briar could end Eliana. She wasn’t a full God. Human blood ran in her veins.

But then what? Soren would be dead. The Gods would be back. Lillia was wrong though. If they failed, then yes, Eliana would kill them but if they won? It wouldn’t be Eliana they needed to fear. It would be the living, the impossibility of moving forward, of fitting into their old roles when everything inside them was changed. They might live but they’d never be alive. Joy had already turned to ash. All she knew was despair and fear.

A life for a life. He’d volunteered and she was putting off the inevitable. Lillia had dashed her hope like waves against rocks. In its place anger bubbled. “What the fuck is your problem? You’re so scared of all of this you just want to…what? Give up? I’m scared too, Lillia, but I’m trying. You’re hiding, here in this old, warded house, under the ghost of your grandmother, you’re hiding. It’s not going to save you. Even if you survive, you’re going to have to live with yourself. Do you know how to do that? Have you ever even tried or do you just run away whenever things get tough?”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Gladly.”

She could see the uncertainty flash in Lillia’s eyes and she refused to let her own mirror it. They’d have to find a way past this, they’d have to find a way to work together, but right now Briar didn’t care. She was just mad. No longer scared or lost. All of it was replaced by white-hot anger coursing through her body.

She slammed the door on her way out, sending silvery wards reverberating on the doorframe. She fed her anger as she walked through the city, stoking its flames with everything that had happened to her. She was a raging inferno when she finally reached her father’s house and knocked on the door.

Her mother answered and the laughter on her face died at the sight of her daughter. “Hey, baby.”

She pushed past her and into the house. It was trashed. Empty wine bottles lay on their sides on every surface, knocking against half-finished takeout containers. Blankets and clothes were strewn about. The remnants of hurricane Andora.

Her father appeared, naked except for an apron and a pair of boxer shorts. “I wasn’t expecting you today, Ry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Cordelia, Mom? Why didn’t you tell me I was related to the last queen? You had the answers I always wanted and you never told me.”

Andora moved her face into a portrait of contrition. “I didn’t know you cared. I knew you liked books but I just figured it was a way to establish yourself as something more.”

“You never bothered to know me at all!”

“Hey!” Keller stepped between the two women. “There’s no reason for you to talk to your mother like that.”

Briar huffed. “She doesn’t give a shit about us, Dad! She never did. She just comes here when she’s bored or broke and you’re too chickenshit to throw her to the curb!”

“Briar, I know you’re having a rough time but this is unacceptable.”

“You are a stupid, spineless man.” She turned back to her mother. “And you are worthless. Have you even worried about me? You knew enough to recognize the signs but one meeting in a park was all you cared about? Do you think about me at all? Do you care about what I’m going through?”

Andora’s eyes darted from Briar to Keller and back. She shook her head. “Briar, honey, I have no clue what you’re talking about. When’s the last time you slept? You look awful.”

Rage swelled inside her and she screamed, magic exploding out of her, rattling the windows and the bottles of wine. “When I’m dead I hope you can feel my blood on your hands for the rest of your life.”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t Andora’s fault. And she hated her for it.