Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“It doesn’t,” said Xavier.
Delilah threw him a dirty look. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Can’t say I care.” Xavier jolted in his seat. “Dammit.” He shot a glare at thin air and rubbed at his nape. “One thing I don’t like about this time of year is how active the spirits get. They can be seriously annoying at times.”
Delilah used her hip to bump a cupboard door shut. “I still say we should hold a séance.”
“Nu-uh,” said Wynter, shaking her head.
“But it could be fun,” said Delilah. “And Xavier’s an expert at communing with the dead.”
“Providing he has a corpse he can use as a conduit,” Wynter reminded her. “I am so totally not going there.”
“It’s probably for the best that we don’t,” said Hattie, fussing with the little plant pots on the windowsill. “A lot of the spirits here seem angry and melancholy. Probably can’t get a ticket out of hell. Poor bastards. I’ll be heading there for sure myself.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Xavier told her. “Personally, I think the devil is gonna freaking dig you.”
The old woman smiled. “Well thanks, darlin’.”
Delilah turned to Wynter. “Back to the whole you moving out thing—” She stopped as Wynter raised a hand.
“I told Cain I’d move my stuff to his place little by little. And I will.” As for whether or not she’d bond with his monster . . . well, she didn’t see any harm in it. But she needed a little more information before she made an official decision one way or the other.
“Good,” said Delilah. “You shouldn’t hold yourself back. Especially out of some cute but silly need to watch over us. We’ll be fine.”
A crackling sound filled the room as purple smoke ballooned out of Anabel’s cauldron. The blonde hissed. “Motherfucking fucker.”
Wynter sighed. “If you say so, Del.”
A blaring sound came from outside followed by a monotone voice announcing that Cain would be making a speech from the city’s tallest tower in exactly thirty minutes.
“There’s no point in us opening our shop yet, then,” said Xavier.
Wynter nodded and took another sip of her tea. “We might as well wait until after the speech.”
“It gives you time to go pack a few things to move to Cain’s Keep later.” Delilah gave her a pointed look, daring her to put up a protest.
Wynter sniffed. “Fine.” Her mug in hand, she headed upstairs to her bedroom. Taking a good look at the space, she couldn’t help but heave a sigh. Other than the books, raven bookends, and maybe the African violet plant, not one thing here would fit well in Cain’s chamber. Still, she wouldn’t leave any of it behind. Aside from the furniture, of course—it all came with the cottage.
Setting her cup on the nightstand, Wynter wandered over to the ancestor altar that she’d set up on the top of her dresser. She constructed the altar every fall to honor those she’d lost. It was a tradition most witches followed.
This time, she’d used a red cloth that looked much like the one she’d left behind at Aeon when forced to go on the run. Normally, she would have placed photos and belongings of her deceased loved ones on the altar, but she’d had to leave those behind as well. Instead, she’d drawn pictures of them—they weren’t fabulous, but they held a real likeness to her mother, grandmother, and mentor Rafe—and placed items she’d found in local stores that much resembled family heirlooms. There was also a chalice, candles, and pumpkins.
The altar would for sure look out of place in Cain’s chamber, as would her collection of crystals and the astrological-themed throw on the armchair. She’d leave them here for now and take them to the Keep at a later date.
By the time Wynter had bagged up a few things and drank her tea, it was almost time for Cain’s speech. Together, she and her coven went to stand in their front yard. From there, she could clearly see Cain standing at the top of the city’s tallest tower. The other Ancients stood behind him in what appeared to be a gesture of solidarity.
The streets were packed with people, many of whom lived on the surface and had no doubt come here to be present for Cain’s speech. It wasn’t long before he raised a hand, gesturing for a silence that immediately fell.
“I know you’ll all have questions,” said Cain, pure power amplifying his voice. “Several, probably. What do the Ancients make of Adam’s announcement? Does the Aeon truly not want war? Did Wynter Dellavale really curse his land? Do she and I intend to give ourselves up? What will Adam do if we don’t?
“I will answer those questions. You should also ask yourselves another: Why would Adam not come here for vengeance? Strange that he didn’t, don’t you think? In relatively short order, the three other ruling Aeons were killed, including his son. Abel’s dismembered body was dumped at Aeon for Adam to find. Yet, he proclaims he doesn’t want war. Personally, I find that exceptionally hard to believe.”