Fairydale: A Dark Gothic Fantasy Romance

‘Bring me the alcohol.’

‘Wait! She’s coming around.’

My eyes slowly open as the throbbing in my temple subsides. Blinking to gain some clarity, I note four figures hovering over me.

The Hales. All but Caleb.

Rhiannon is to my right, her features wrinkled with worry. Thomasa and Connor Hale are on the left side, a step away from Katrina who’s holding on to my hand.

‘You’re awake,’ she breathes out in relief.

Everyone seemingly does the same as they see me slowly regain consciousness.

Instinctively, my hand goes to my head where the throbbing had been, expecting to find an injury.

Yet there’s nothing.

‘What happened?’ I frown, having a hard time remembering how I’d ended up here.

Rhiannon purses her lips.

‘We found you in the catacombs, Darcy. You fainted there,’ she explains.

My brows are scrunched together as I attempt to recall how I’d ended up there, my memories slowly coming back.

Amon…

He was calling my name, was he not? I’d only followed his voice and then…

I shake my head in frustration at the huge blank in my mind.

Instead of remembering how I’d ended up in the catacombs, I recall vividly the past.

The Amon from the past.

Terrifying.

A demon. An actual, honest to God, veritable demon. Who, besides spending his time slaughtering people and spreading evil wherever he went, also spent time romancing me.

Or, rather Elizabeth.

That is a lot to wrap my mind around.

Almost two hundred years ago I was in love with a demon. So much so that I didn’t even care that he was the personification of evil.

And then there’s the matter of my former family of…witches.

I wince as my temples throb anew, pain spreading through my body.

‘Are you alright, dear?’ Rhiannon touches my hand, squeezing it lightly.

‘Yes,’ I bite against the pain. ‘I cannot remember well what happened.’

‘That’s fine. You don’t need to strain yourself. But we will be sealing shut the door to the catacombs. It’s very dangerous down there.’

‘Dangerous how?’ I look at her, seeing the lines of worry still marring her face.

But is this because of me, or is it something else?

‘There are radioactive materials there,’ Connor steps forward. ‘They used our house to deposit shipments of Uranium in the Second War. It must have been the fumes that made you pass out. It’s better for everyone if we close off that tunnel for good.’

Rhiannon nods.

‘Here, have some tea. It should help with the pain,’ she mentions as she brings me a tray from the desk, placing a cup of hot tea in my hands.

‘Thank you,’ I give them a smile. ‘For everything. And I’m sorry I went there without asking.’

‘No harm done. You’re fine and that’s all that matters,’ Rhiannon waves her hand. ‘Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight? If you feel up to it, that is. If not, I can ask to have your dinner sent to your room.’

Dinner? I frown as I look at the mantel clock on the table at the end of the room.

Three in the afternoon.

Good Lord, how long was I out?

‘Dinner sounds perfect. Thank you so much,’ I force a smile but as my mind slowly clears, more questions appear.

‘We’ll leave you now if you’re alright?’ Thomasa asks, her eyes combing my body for any signs of distress.

‘Yes, do not worry. I am quite fine,’ I assure them.

One by one, they slowly leave my room. Only Rhiannon lingers behind, her lips flattened into a thin line as she regards me.

‘I think you and I are due for a talk, Darcy. I am in the conservatory every morning until noon. Come by tomorrow.’

She doesn’t wait for my reply, the door closing after her.

I wait for a few moments before I place the empty cup of tea on a nearby table. Getting out of bed, I jump to my feet, surprised there’s no echo of pain.

Checking the door to my room is locked, I head to the bathroom.

Despite having my thoughts in disarray, I’m starting to gain more clarity, both about what had led me to the catacombs, and about the vision I’d had about the past.

At this point I can no longer deny that those aren’t dreams—they aren’t something borne out of my imagination. They are visions of a past life.

One where I was Elizabeth Montford and…hopelessly in love with a demon.

I stop in front of the bathroom mirror, and tugging on the neckline of my gown, I push it low enough to reveal my birthmark.

The same birthmark Elizabeth also had.

My lips purse in concentration as I examine it thoroughly. About two inches big, it’s a dark discoloration on my skin in the shape of a teardrop.

According to Fiona Montford, this mark denotes a certain ability to heal.

Information floods my brain, as do the implications of my visions.

Am I somehow related to the Elizabeth of the past? Is this mark hereditary? Because that would make me a descendant of the Stuarts, too. In turn that would mean I have witch blood running through my veins.

Moving my gaze from my mark to the mirror, I examine my features.

Not only do I have the same mark as Elizabeth, but we also look like twins.

In my past life, Fiona had bound my powers so no one would take advantage of the mark. Has this happened in this life, too?

Yet the moment that question arises in my mind, I somehow doubt it.

I may not remember much about my mother, but I am certain she’d never dabbled in witchcraft, or anything pertaining to the occult. At the same time, if the Stuart abilities are only passed through the female line, then I should have inherited my powers from my mother—unless she belonged to another family?

Unfortunately, the only memories I have of growing up were of her working herself to the bone to raise me, put a roof over my head and some food in my belly. All she’d done had been to sacrifice herself for my well-being. Even when there was an alternative waiting for her in Fairydale.

That only begs one question. What was she running from?

Before I can change my mind, I open the cabinet, taking out a small blade.

There is only one way to find out if what happened in my visions has any bearing on the present.

Holding the blade between two fingers, I bring it to my forearm, cutting a straight line through my flesh. I grind my teeth in the face of the sudden pain, but I push it down as I stare at the blood pooling over the surface.

If I’m wrong, I’m going to have quite the nasty wound.

But if I’m right…

Dropping the blade in the sink, I turn on the faucet and place my arm under the warm jet of water. The blood quickly washes away from my arm, leaving behind the ghost of a stinging pain and a medium gash.

Just as I think that this was pointless and I’m going to bear the pain for a few more days, the gash starts to shrink.

Right under my eyes, it becomes smaller and smaller until it simply disappears.

My mouth hangs open in shock, and instinctively, I reach for the blade, making another gash on my upper arm.

The same thing happens. Bit by bit, the wound shrinks until it closes, almost as if the skin is mending itself at an accelerated rate.

And though there is an initial pain as the blade pushes into my skin, by the end of the process, there is both no pain and no more injury.

Cleansing the blood off myself, I turn off the faucet and brace my arms on the sink.

All those times…

It hadn’t been Amon who’d been healing me. It had been me all along.

And that means…

I slowly bring my eyes to the mirror, staring at my reflection and seeing both myself and Elizabeth. In my mind, there’s already no more doubt that we are one and the same, her feelings my feelings, her experiences my experiences.

But if Elizabeth had Fiona to bind her powers and keep her safe, I have no one.

If what Fiona had told her—me—about the mark is true, then it is a beacon for evil entities.

For something like that monster.

Though I’ve had this mark my entire life, it’s only since stepping foot into Fairydale that I’ve gained this particular ability. And for the life of me, I cannot imagine when…or how.

Maybe the Hales can help me understand this better. I am more than certain that Rhiannon knows more than she’s letting on. It’s in the way she always regards me furtively, observing me for some unknown purpose.

More than anything, it makes me wonder why I’ve seen so little of the Hales in the time I’ve been here.

Caleb is always with me, yet they are rarely to be seen around.

Granted, it is a giant house. But it seems ludicrous that days at a time would pass before we’d cross each other’s paths.

Almost…  Almost as if they went out of their way to avoid me.

Releasing a frustrated sigh, I take a towel off the wall, drying my arms as I go back to the room.

There are too many things that are too odd for me to contemplate, just as there are too many unanswered questions. And if it weren’t for these visions of the past, I would be even more in the dark.

Yet the moment I think of the past, my mind unwittingly goes to Amon and the fact that he’s not a ghost.

He’s a demon.

And potentially the one who wants to harm me—take advantage of my mark now that there’s no spell containing it anymore.

‘You startled me,’ I jump up as I see Caleb lounging in my bed, a book in his hand.

Peering above the pages of the book, he raises a brow at me.

‘I thought I locked the door,’ I frown.

‘It was open,’ he shrugs. ‘I knocked.’

Swinging his legs off the bed, he’s before me in two strides.

‘You forgot this yesterday,’ he smirks as he places the book in my hands.

The Monk.

‘Thank you,’ I murmur, my cheeks heating up as I recall the kiss.

‘Is that all you have to say to me, darlin’? After you assaulted my lips?’

‘W—what?’ I sputter. ‘Assaulted your lips?’

‘I heard about your incident in the catacombs. I wanted to see if you were alright,’ he goes on to say, ignoring the previous topic.

Circling me while looking me up and down, he nods quietly to himself.

‘You seem fine. I’m glad.’

‘I am fine. It was just a little mishap. I didn’t know the catacombs were off limits.’

‘Are they?’ he stops, his lips pulling into a hidden smile. ‘Don’t tell me. More ghosts?’

‘No. Your father said there was radioactive residue and it could be harmful for my health.’

‘Hmm,’ he muses. ‘I’ve never heard that before.’

I whip my gaze to his, surprised to see he isn’t joking.

‘What do you mean? He said they deposited Uranium for the Second World War in the tunnels and it’s still radioactive.’

I find it hard to believe Caleb wouldn’t have heard about that considering it would have been around ten years ago and he would have been a teenager around that time.

‘Depositing Uranium this far north? Wouldn’t that have been counterproductive? It’s far from Manhattan and even further away from Los Alamos,’ he notes quietly.

Before I can reply, though, he leans in to lay a kiss on my brow.

‘I’ll be away for a few days for business. My family will take care of you until I come back,’ he whispers against my skin. ‘But remember one thing, Darcy darlin’. There is no such thing as universal truth. Every story has different sides and it’s up to you to assemble them together to get the final picture.’

And with that he is gone.

I bring my hands to my cheeks, massaging them in an attempt to recover from the little kiss he’d given me. One small touch and I’d flushed from head to toe.

Yet even as his presence clouds my judgment, his words still ring in my ears.

There’s no such thing as universal truth.

Does he mean I shouldn’t wholly trust his family? But doesn’t that extend to him too?

More confused than before, I go about my day as I try to make sense of all the information I have.

Pulling out a small diary, I start jotting down everything that had happened to me since arriving in Fairydale, as well as writing a chart of all the people I’d met and each specific interaction.

I already know there are seemingly two factions in this town.

The Hales are on one side, alone in their big manor but seemingly respected enough in town despite some of the rumors surrounding them.

Then there’s Mr. Nicholson with the Pierces and Mr. Vaughan.

From what I’ve been able to glean, Mr. Nicholson is the authority in this town, and is considered the voice of reason.

As he’d promised me, he’d put in a good word with the townsfolk and suddenly any insults at my address have stopped. The police, too, had stopped inquiring into my whereabouts and I haven’t been asked again to testify in the murder cases.

Drawing a diagram to map out the connections, I frown as a sudden question enters my mind.

Mr. Nicholson had said the Pierces are distant relatives of his. He’d also been the only one to admit to knowing who my mother was.

Could it be that she’s related to him in some way?

Alternatively, could that mean he is related to the Stuarts in some way?

Caleb had already confirmed that Rhiannon is involved in witchcraft. That makes me wonder if they aren’t somehow involved with the six families Fiona had talked to me about.

And if my reasoning is right…

Then why would two families make their home in a remote place like Fairydale?

Placing my pen down, I massage my temples.

No matter how much I think about this, it’s quite clear that there are severe gaps in my knowledge that prevent me from reaching any conclusion—or, at least, any reasonable conclusion.

There’s also the most important question.

How does Amon figure into all of this?

Is he a friend, or foe?

Is he after my mark, or is he trying to protect me?

Centuries ago, I loved him. And if I’m honest with myself, I still do.

I just don’t know who to trust anymore.

When it’s time for dinner, I put on one of my nicer dresses and head to the main dining room.

The family is already present when I arrive. Rhiannon is at the head of the table. Connor is by her right side, accompanied by his wife and Katrina. And when they notice me, Rhiannon asks me to take a seat next to her on the left side.

‘Thank you for the invite,’ I give them a polite smile as I take a seat.

Two servants bring the first course, laying a plate in front of each of us.

‘You’ll have to forgive us that we only invited you now to dine with us. Somehow, it’s so hard to coordinate a time when we are all available,’ Rhiannon starts.

‘It’s alright. You’ve already welcomed me into your home which is more than enough.’

‘Nonsense. I’ve always prided myself on being a good host. We’ve just had more problems than usual this time around,’ she says ominously as she meets her son’s gaze. ‘But things will soon go back to normal.’

‘Darcy should understand. She’s already met some of the resident ghosts,’ Connor laughs.

‘You did?’ Rhiannon turns to me. ‘Which one? Was it Lydia? I keep hoping she will appear.’

‘You mean Lydia Hale?’

Rhiannon nods.

‘My grandmother died some fifty years ago, but I doubt she’s moved on,’ she pauses. ‘I don’t think any of them will until they find a resolution,’ she sighs.

All the while I can’t help but note how nonchalant they are talking about ghosts at the dinner table. I do my best to seem just as unbothered, though the questions are piling in my mind.

‘What resolution?’

‘They’ve all been waiting for something,’ she smiles. ‘Soon, though, they will finally be able to find peace.’

‘Caleb told me about this house,’ I start, and suddenly everyone stops to look at me expectantly. ‘That you have wards in place to keep evil out,’ I amend.

‘Caleb told you that?’ Connor asks, frowning.

I nod.

‘Is it true? That you are…a witch?’ I lower my voice, almost ashamed of saying it out loud.

Rhiannon cracks a smile before she bursts out into laughter.

‘Witch,’ she chuckles, and the others join in. ‘That is an antiquated term, my dear. I prefer guardian of light.’

Guardian of light. Coven of light.

The terms are eerily similar, and lead me to believe that I was right in my assumption. The Hales are part of the six families.

‘That means good magic, no?’ I measure my words, thinking back to what Caleb had told me.

I am already at a disadvantage that I am an outsider in this town, having close to no knowledge of what truly happens here. The last thing I want to do is give away the fact that I can see my past life as Elizabeth. That is my only trump card so far.

‘Of course,’ she exclaims. ‘My family has been a protector of mankind for centuries. All the women take an oath to serve the light,’ she gives me a short account, telling me that all women in the family are born with gifts that allow them to fight against evil.

All the information matches what Fiona had told me, making me even more certain that they are part of the six families.

‘You’re taking this awfully well, Darcy,’ Thomasa notes. ‘I know I reacted quite poorly when I first found out about it.’

‘I think I would have reacted worse had I not experienced these odd encounters myself,’ I admit.

Yet there’s also the fact that the moment I’d obtained the information, instead of resorting to disbelief, I’d only felt a great calm settling over me as all the pieces fit in place.

I have to wonder if this isn’t a result of being intimately acquainted with magic in my previous life, too, and thus being primed for accepting its existence.

Or, maybe, it’s the fact that I know I have similar abilities and magic running through my own blood.

Nonetheless, now looking back, I cannot see the world as anything else but…full of magic.

Everyone is quiet as the meal continues, and I cannot help but ask some of my most burning questions.

‘Leo Pierce’s death,’ I look around the table, gauging their expressions. ‘It was magic, wasn’t it?’

The tension vibrates at the table, but eventually Rhiannon responds.

‘It was an evil energy unlike I’ve ever seen,’ she states emphatically. ‘Whatever his sins, he didn’t deserve to die that way.’

‘What about the other murders?’

They all nod grimly.

‘But why? Do you know why?’

Just at that moment, the servants descend again upon the dining room, taking away the plates and bringing the next course.

As I’m about to reiterate my question, Rhiannon suddenly changes the subject.

‘I hope that despite the odd things you’ve witnessed so, you will enjoy yourself in our little town. There’s a celebration coming soon for the Fairy Festival, and at the end of October I’ll be holding an important event. We’ll have guests from all over the world,’ she says enthusiastically.

From all over the world?

Immediately, my thoughts go to the other families. Could it be them?

But if that is the case then…

My eyes meet Rhiannon’s and in there I note the worry, the anguish, and most of all the determination.

If all six families are reuniting in Fairydale, it can only be for one reason.

To perform one of the forbidden spells.

Caleb’s absence is marked. Even though it’s been just a day, I have to admit that I miss him and our discussions. I’ve gotten too used to having him daily with me, entertaining and challenging me with his conversation.

Without him I feel…bereft.

After a relatively fulfilling sleep, I wake up early in the morning and head to the conservatory to meet with Rhiannon, hoping that a meeting just between the two of us would bring me more answers.

As I step into the brightly lit area, I note flower beds on both sides.

Rhiannon is on her knees, digging in the corner.

Remembering she is in her late nineties, I cannot help but admire her.

‘Let me help,’ I say as I lower myself to my knees by her side.

‘Bah,’ she gently stops my hand. ‘I might be getting old but I can still do this,’ she chuckles. For the next few minutes I watch as she carefully plants a new rose bud in the ground.

When she’s done, she asks me to join her on a bench in the back.

The conservatory is made entirely out of glass, allowing for the sunrays to infiltrate every little corner.

‘You said you wanted to talk to me about something,’ I tell her as she pulls close a mobile table that has a teapot and two cups on it.

‘Indeed,’ she smiles. ‘Let us have tea first.’

She pours a cup for each of us.

‘It’s rose tea. I make it myself,’ she adds with pride as she gazes around at the varieties of roses she has in her greenhouse. I can tell this is a favorite pastime and she takes great pride in her flowers.

‘It’s wonderful, thank you.’

We’re both silent for a moment, a bird crying in the distance, the only sound around.

‘This conservatory was built by Lydia’s mother—my great-grandmother. I never met her, but I’m told she loved her little plants and would spend most of her time here with her husband.’

I nod slowly, curious to see where she’s going with this information. Instead of revealing what little I know, it’s better to see what she has to offer first.

‘She died during the plague when Lydia was a little girl. Despite everything, my grandmother still remembered her and would often tell me little stories about her,’ she smiles fondly.

I bring the cup to my lips, studying her covertly. Just like the other Hales, she has dark hair and a pale complexion with lightly colored eyes. Lines mar her forehead and cheeks, but they are not as pronounced as you would expect of a ninety-something-year-old woman. I’d been serious when I told Caleb she comes across as someone in her fifties, which in itself is a feat.

Rhiannon takes a deep breath.

‘My grandmother had the gift of foresight,’ she turns to me. ‘From the time I was born she told me about one recurring vision she kept having. One that haunted her all her life.’

I tilt my head, meeting her gaze.

‘What was it?’

She gives me a sad smile.

‘There’s evil here, Darcy. So much evil, the town overflows with it. I’m sure you’ve already heard the rumors about the criminals in Fairydale.’

I nod.

‘Nothing is accidental. They’re drawn to the evil here. It attracts them like a moth to a flame. We’ve tried to stay as vigilant as possible, but in the last few years it’s been worse and worse. Murderers, rapists, arsonists. The worst of the worst. And all of them gather here.’

‘What evil are you talking about?’

‘An entity that’s been here for centuries,’ she answers vaguely. ‘Something that grows stronger every day until we won’t be able to contain it anymore.’

‘I don’t understand…’ I frown.

‘You will,’ she covers my hand with hers. ‘You see, my grandmother predicted that there will be one person who will help us rid the world of this evil. Someone who will be born with the sole destiny of eradicating it.’

‘Who?’ I ask on a breathless whisper.

‘The one with the mark of light,’ she says, waving her hand in front of me, an image appearing as if projected by a machine.

I startle, jumping in my seat.

Her other hand holds me in place.

‘Don’t be scared,’ she murmurs. ‘Look,’ she points to the image she is creating.

After the first traces of shock wear off, I realize what I’m looking at.

It’s a similar drawing to the one I’d seen in Codex Stuartorum. It’s the body of a woman with a tear-shaped mark above her left breast.

‘What is so special about that mark?’ I swallow hard.

Going by Rhiannon’s expression as she regards me, she knows fully well I have the mark.

‘No one can say for sure. The elders claimed it was of divine origins. But all agreed that it holds immense powers,’ she pauses, and the image shifts. ‘Historically, only two other people have had this mark, and both died gruesome deaths.’

That gives me pause.

I know about the first one—allegedly killed by Amon.

But what about me? What about Elizabeth?

‘What happened to them?’

My heart is in my throat as she explains the same I’d heard from Fiona about the first woman. But when it comes to Elizabeth…

‘The second one,’ Rhiannon’s voice trembles. ‘He removed her heart in an attempt to get to the core of her power. It was useless because her powers had been bound since birth, but she died a horrible death,’ she shakes her head.

‘He?’ I repeat, a ghost of a whisper as my chest constricts with visions of the past.

Of the only person who could have done that.

Rhiannon brings the back of her hand to her cheek, wiping a tear away.

‘You asked about the source of the evil in Fairydale,’ she sighs, and with a flick of her wrist, the image changes to another illustration I’m well acquainted with.

‘He seduced Elizabeth and corrupted her mind until he turned her against her own family and everything that was good. Until he…’ she gulps down, the story affecting her more than I would have thought. ‘He killed her without remorse.’

Rhiannon snaps her fingers and the illustrations come to life before me.

Amon. With his long pale hair and intense gaze. With his honeyed words and searing touches.

She’s talking about my Amon.

‘His last known name is Amon,’ Rhiannon starts. ‘The elders believe him to be an archdemon, though we’ve never been able to find out more. The only one who knew anything was Elizabeth but she protected him until he killed her with his bare hands.’

A vision of Amon takes shape in my mind. He’s standing in front of me, his hand turning into a blade and thrusting it into my chest.

I’d seen him do that before. When he’d killed that man. He’d removed his heart and crushed it in his fist.

Yet thinking about him doing that to me?

A shiver goes down my back.

If what Rhiannon’s saying is true then…

‘This Amon,’ I clear my throat, my voice groggy as I say his name out loud. That one word is enough to make my chest ache with longing, the love I bore him—that I still do—pushing its head to the surface and hurting me with the implications of his treachery. ‘What happened to him? Where is he now?’

‘Everywhere,’ she takes a deep breath. ‘After he killed Elizabeth, the elders managed to contain him in Fairydale, and he’s been here for centuries. But his seal is weakening. Soon… He will either go free, or we’ll be able to kill him once and for all.’

‘How do you plan on killing him?’

The mere suggestion that anyone might harm Amon hits me like a bullet to the chest, a deep chasm opening inside my heart.

Squeezing my eyes shut against that sensation, I try to pay attention to what Rhiannon is saying.

‘There is one spell. The same one they used a few centuries ago.’

‘But it didn’t kill him back then,’ I interject, keeping my tone down so she doesn’t detect the residual happiness.

‘This time it will be amplified,’ she continues, giving me a knowing look.

‘By the mark,’ I fill in the gap.

She nods.

‘Yes. That is what my grandmother foresaw. The one with the mark will end everything once and for all,’ she pauses as she gazes intently at me. ‘You, Darcy.’

As expected, she knows—probably knew from the beginning.

Does Caleb know, too?

‘We need your help, child. We’ve been waiting for you for so long… For too long,’ she sighs.

I simply stare at her.

‘You’re asking me to… To risk my life…’ I mumble incoherently, unable to wrap my mind around any of this.

Not only did I hear that Amon had killed me before—despite all his avowals of eternal love, but now I find out that I am the only one who can kill him? That they need me to perform this spell?

Even if he were the devil himself, I don’t know how I could possibly do anything to harm him. How could I, when I’d seen how inconsolable I’d been in the past when I’d thought him lost to me? How could I possibly do anything to him, when killing him would be akin to killing my own heart?

‘I know this might seem too sudden. I honestly did not know how to break it to you. We wanted to let you get accustomed to Fairydale on your own, so you could see the odd things that happen here. Only by experiencing it for yourself could you ever believe what I’m saying is true. Isn’t that right?’

I give her a slow nod.

A small tremor goes down my body. Despite all my best efforts to control myself, it’s in vain. Conflicting emotions—love, fear, disappointment—converge inside my heart, making me reel with the magnitude of my feelings.

And despite Rhiannon’s explanations, I feel more lost than ever.

‘You see, you are our only remaining hope. His influence is already seeping through the seal, and I can feel the evil shrouding this entire town,’ she laments, giving me gruesome details of the murders that have occurred in Fairydale—not only the ones I’d witnessed but also the ones from the past.

‘Every year it becomes worse. But now…’ she trails off, sighing loudly.

I nod.

‘How do you know I have the mark?’ I inquire softly.

Without taking her eyes off me, she changes the image, showing me a sketch.

‘Lydia didn’t just foresee your arrival. She foresaw everything about you. She knew when you would be born, how you’d look. Everything.’

‘Then my mother… Did you know my mother?’

A shadow falls over her face as she blinks.

‘I did,’ she replies. ‘She was a great woman.’ There’s a tightness to her voice as she continues. ‘She thought she was doing what was best for you by taking you away from here. But she didn’t realize that she couldn’t fight fate.’

‘What can you tell me about her?’

She shakes her head sadly.

‘Everyone loved her in Fairydale. It’s unfortunate that she didn’t think she could share her burden with us.’

Realizing I’m not likely to get more out of her, I decide to change the subject, inquiring about the monster I’d seen instead.

‘Is it this?’ her brows furrow with concentration as she brings to life another illustration. This time it’s of a creature that looks just like the monster who’d attacked me.

‘Yes,’ I nod. ‘He had huge claws and he stabbed me and…’

‘Did he get your blood?’ she all but shrieks.

I blink in confusion, my mouth opening and closing as I try to find my voice.

‘Forgive me, but it’s very important to know if he took your blood or not.’

‘He tried to, but he was killed before he could do it.’

She releases a deep sigh.

‘Good. Good,’ she nods to herself. ‘You cannot let any such creature take a drop of blood from you, Darcy. Listen to me. It’s imperative that they don’t get their hands on your blood.’

‘Why?’

‘This monster. It’s a Kiaka, a mindless lowly demon that does the bidding of its master. Since Amon cannot act for himself, he must have sent it after you. You see, your blood is the only thing that can give him strength.’

I regard her carefully. It had been Amon himself who’d killed the monster. Why would he do it if he’d sent it in the first place?

Unless…

My pulse speeds up, my palms getting clammy as it dawns on me he’s been playing with me from the beginning.

He killed the Kiaka purposefully after he’d gotten my blood. He must have done it to get me to trust him. Just as he must have been behind every little odd thing happening around me.

Remembering all the times I thought I was losing my mind, I can’t help but wonder if he’d been behind that.

Could it be that he’d been trying to undermine my relationship with Caleb, too?

‘Just how strong is Amon?’ I utter on a whisper.

‘I don’t have an answer for you, child. When the elders sealed him, they gave their lives to that spell. It was a sacrifice they were willing to make, but no one realized he would be that powerful. Though he is trapped—for now—his influence lingers.’

‘Do you think…’ I wet my lips. ‘Do you think he could influence my mind?’

Dear God, but what if those visions of the past I’m seeing are sent by Amon? What if he’s trying to paint our relationship in a positive light so he can get me on his side?

She nods grimly.

My eyes widen just as my mind blanks on me.

Turning towards the beautiful roses, I stare into empty space as I realize I’ve reached my lowest point—where I cannot even know if my thoughts are my own, never mind my memories of the past or if my eyes deceive me.

‘I can help with that,’ she suddenly offers.

Closing her eyes, she does a small incantation, her palms lighting up in a blinding flash before a red string appears in her hand.

‘Here,’ she murmurs as she wraps it around my wrist. ‘This should be enough for now since he’s still weak. But if he gains strength… There’s no telling what he will be capable of,’ she takes a deep breath. ‘You must ensure he never gets even one drop of your blood. If he does… I fear for the fate of this town.’

I give her a tight smile, promising I will be careful.

All the while, though, I cannot reconcile what Rhiannon is telling me with what I know of Amon. Just like in my vision before, when Fiona had told me how evil he was, there’s a part of me that cannot believe it—that simply cannot fathom an existence without him.

Even then. I knew he was a demon. I knew he was reviled. I knew he was a murderer.

And yet, I still loved him.

But can I trust myself?

Can I truly trust that what I’m feeling is real and not a result of his interference? He might not have the power to become corporeal and come after me himself, but as Rhiannon admitted, he could affect my perception of what’s happening around me.

Despite knowing all that, I’m still torn…

As we finish the tea, she tells me she must retire for the day.

‘You must be wondering why I’ve been so absent,’ she stops at the door of the conservatory on her way out. ‘I have been performing a containment ritual every day to ensure that Amon’s influence does not reach this house. I will continue to do so until the moment comes that we’ll finally be able to rid ourselves of him.’

‘What will happen to me for the final spell? You said I’m needed to enhance it. But will I…die?’ I ask tentatively.

She purses her lips, her cheeks tightening in a sad smile.

‘Your abilities will save you from such a fate, Darcy,’ she vaguely replies.

But she never gives me a straight answer.

We walk together back to the house, parting ways as we reach the first floor.

‘Please consider what I told you, Darcy.’

She makes to continue to the stairs when I ask one last question.

‘If I don’t agree. Will you do the spell anyway?’

She takes a moment to reply, nodding grimly.

‘It must be done. Whether we live or die, it is our duty to cleanse the stench of evil from this town once and for all.’

And with that she’s gone.

I hurry to my room, all the while mulling over everything I’ve learned.

To say I’m shocked that she’d been so frank with me is an understatement.

From the beginning the Hales have been somehow secretive as to what goes on in Fairydale and Katrina had been quite dismissive of the rumors about the family.

Yet Rhiannon had confirmed everything.

The Hales are part of the six families.

And they think I can somehow help them defeat an archdemon that’s been terrorizing Fairydale for centuries.

It would all be perfectly fine if not for the small fact that the archdemon in question is Amon.

My beloved. And, apparently, my killer.

There are too many contradictions, and though I can feel that Rhiannon does not have any ill intentions with me, I am still wary of trusting her.

Just how much is true and how much is fake?

How is it that I come to Fairydale to receive an inheritance from a not so dead man but instead find myself in the middle of a conflict between witches and demons?

But most importantly, how do I manage to stay alive?