The Last Witch: Volume Three

Two days I lay there. The Gods were cruel, leaving only two bullets in that damn gun and I used them on Grayson and Theo.

Dehydrated, unconscious and hours from death, the universe delivered another blow.

Rescue.

In the form of those who were left behind, just as I was.

I was pulled from that pit and taken away. I howled as I left, knowing then that I had truly lost any hope of returning to my family.

The days that followed were a miserable blur. Sleep is all I craved. Hours of dreams filled with the faces and voices of all I love. Each time I opened my eyes, I felt the pain in my slowly healing body and the all-consuming aching of my broken heart. I refused to even let my eyes focus before I sealed them closed again and buried my face in the soft pillow beneath my head.

I feel so defeated. My body obliges and answers my plea for sleep. In the haze, I recall the taste of warm milk sliding down my throat as I drift in and out of my unbelievably deep slumber and I feel the prick of many needles in my arms in the brief moments of consciousness I’m forced to endure.

I want to stay here, in my dreams, where I see the life I sacrificed for those I love. I’m with them here, in their meadows. In their forests. In their arms.

But soon, my body’s needs outweigh my heart’s, so I give in. With a full bladder and a growling belly, I accept that I will not be able to sleep the rest of my life away and that I have an uncertain and miserable reality that I need to face.

I blink open my heavy and dry eyes, as everything shifts slowly back into focus. But before my vision sharpens fully, the first thing I notice is the overwhelming smell of the room that I’m in.

Sandalwood and vanilla.

And other scents, sterilising liquid and coffee. I raise my head a little, just enough to see past the thick, fluffy pillow my face is sunken into. There’s a bedside table next to my head, atop it a steaming mug of black coffee. I shift, inspecting the room.

A lump forms in my throat when I realise where I am.

Yes, I smell Gabriel’s unmistakable scent but not because he is here. But because I’m in his bedroom back at The Orchard, tucked up in his enormous bed with my face nestled into his pillow. Sluggishly, I roll over, part of me hoping to find him sleeping beside me, his hair a dishevelled mess and his lips slightly parted as he dreams.

But the bed is as empty as it is large. The four-poster towers over me just as it did back when I first moved into the house.

His clothes are strewn all over the place, hanging on wardrobe doors and chairs or tossed into the odd corner. Gabriel was always a little lazy and his clothes rarely made it to their hangers or drawers. On the nightstand, beside my awaiting coffee, is a novel with a bookmark nestled between its pages, unfinished and left behind. I sit, pushing myself up and getting a harsh reminder of what I did to my wrist as the broken bone protests to the weight. It’s been sealed in a plaster-cast to help it mend. On my other hand, a small tube is connected by a cannula to a bag of clear fluids. My body hurts like a bitch after the assault from Grayson and Theo. I reach up to feel cuts and bruises on my very broken face. I barely touch it and the pain has me recoiling. It’s then that I notice something else.

That the hair that hangs over my shoulders is a light brown colour. Not red.

Because I have no magic, and only the Arcane Witch has the telltale red hair.

I’m very much a human now.

And it sucks.

‘How are you feeling?’ comes a gentle voice. I turn quickly, the sudden movement makes me dizzy and I groan in regret, clasping my head as it pounds. ‘That will be the lack of food and drink. I had no choice but to put you on a drip, I’m afraid. But you should feel much better after a good meal.’

My companion strides across the room and sits beside me.

Connor’s mum.

She shows me a sombre smile.

‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, coughing to clear my unbelievably dry throat.

She leans over and scoops up the coffee, placing it in my hand and nods to it encouragingly. As I sip, she talks.

‘Connor didn’t tell you that his mum was a human I take it?’

I lower the mug from my lips as it dawns on me. How foolish could I have been?!

Others have been left behind, their loved ones torn from their side as they have no choice but to let them go and mourn their loss.

‘I-I didn’t know,’ I offer apologetically, resting the mug on the duvet covering my legs. ‘I didn’t think.’

‘Oh, dear girl, please do not feel bad. You saved us all. Human and Descendant alike. We know that they are safe, and now so are we.’

‘We?’

‘I’m not the only human married to a Descendant, dear.’

Of course. There are many of them. I met them when they had bombs sewn into their mouths, before they were herded into the caves to kill their own families and lifelong friends.

Thankfully, that day never happened, and all who were lost in the explosion are safe. Alive.

Unless they died on the beach…

Her motherly hand taps my knee through the bulky feather duvet and she offers me a comforting smile. But I don’t fail to see the loss that has rooted in her eyes.

‘I am so so sorry,’ I offer pathetically.

‘Don’t feel bad. Not for us. And don’t you dare apologise for the heroic and selfless acts that you have done for us. For goodness sake, you saved us all. We are alive because of your actions. This separation is a small price to pay to spare us from the alternative. Connor is with his friends and his father. Your lovely family are all safe. And I am here with you. We have each other and we’ll get through this together.’

My lip trembles and a shallow pool of tears swims in my eyes as I receive her sentiment. She doesn’t hesitate to engulf me in her arms and pull me into her chest. It’s a mother’s hug. A wonderful embrace that I happily sink into.

‘Besides,’ she adds as I cling to her like a child. ‘This isn’t so bad. The Kendryk house is like a castle. Not an uncomfortable place to adjust to this new reality of ours.’

‘Are we safe?’ I choke out, trying not to cry, despite everything inside me wanting nothing else but to do just that. ‘The Hunters, where-’

‘Gone. They have no more witches to hunt and shortly after you shot that bastard Theo in the head, their hatred of us seemed to just… fade. The Hunter’s mark stopped spreading its poison and people have settled back down.’

‘Where are the other humans that got left behind? Are they at the house too?’

‘It’s just us here. Some refused to fight in the first place, stating that they weren’t prepared to die for us. Even if they were married to a Descendant, they left before the battle even started. Afterwards, some who did fight walked away, happy and content that their loved ones are safe but understandably upset that they were being forced to be separated from them. Others returned to their human families. It seems that I am the only one who chose to linger. I wanted to make sure no one was left behind down in that cave, so I went to check it out and found you by the Bloodstone. I thought I was going to lose you.’ She kisses the top of my head and I press further into her. Her mother’s instincts are in full swing as she holds me close and my adolescent hormones are in desperate need of them. I forgot how hard being seventeen was. ‘I brought you back here. I thought that perhaps, this place would be safe. And in truth, I didn’t have anywhere else to take you. Not in England. I thought that when you’re feeling a little better, we could return to Ireland together? I have a lovely cottage. There’s plenty of room for you.’

‘Maybe,’ is all I offer in reply to her suggestion. I can’t see past the hour, never mind the next day.

I lift myself but keep close. Our knees touch and she holds her soft smile as I look around the room, seeing Gabriel’s home and his life laid before me like a photograph. A snippet of him caught in its finality. His unfinished book and unwashed clothes. His discarded newspaper left open on the cartoons. And his leather jacket folded neatly over the end of the bed.

‘I had to clean his coat,’ she says. ‘It was a little bloody, but it’s perfectly okay now. I know that you would want to keep a hold of it.’ She rises to her feet, patting my knee faintly. ‘Would you like something to eat? Connor…’ Her smile falters for a second. ‘He told me you enjoyed cookies when feeling a little under the weather.’

‘He told you that?’

She nods.

‘As soon as he recalled what had happened in what folks called “The Event” when everyone’s memories returned all of a sudden, he rushed straight to me and told me everything. About the fire that was supposed to claim his father and me. The arrival of the Arcane. The battle between Hunters and Descendants, and the fate of us all if we didn’t get to you as soon as possible.’

I clear my throat. ‘Did he tell you of his fate?’

‘No,’ she says with a heavy sigh. ‘And when I asked, he vomited and refused to talk about it so… so I didn’t push. Besides, it didn’t happen. It’s just a memory, right?’

There’s a pleading in her words, so I give her what she needs and I nod.

‘Just a memory,’ I agree. I don’t tell her that just because the scars may no longer be on my skin, I still remember every single blow and cut that caused them. I know that the others will too. I know that Connor will remember what he went through. How Hendrix tortured him. How Gabriel was forced to… well. But at least he’s alive to remember it, I guess.

‘Connor couldn’t stop talking about you. His best friend. His loyal confidant. I know an awful lot about you, but I am sure that I will learn much more as we navigate this new life together.’ She smoothes down my hair. ‘I’ll fetch you some food. I assume you know where the bathroom is. I have searched high and low for some clothes that will fit us, but this was a very male-dominated house. I’m wearing Collins’s things.’ She gestures to the oversized jumper she’s wearing.

‘I’ll wear Gabriel’s stuff,’ I reply.

She leaves, taking her motherly comfort with her. It’s with shaky legs and aching muscles that I rise from the bed and very slowly make my way across the room to the bathroom.

In the shower, I sink beneath the cascading water with my knees tucked up tight to my chest, taking my solitude as a chance to cry the tears that have been desperate to break free since I woke up.

I cry until I have no more energy. No more tears. No more voice and no more hope.

But I know that I will forever hold onto this misery that is trying to swallow me whole. That will never run out.

The sun sets and I remain in the shower, staring at the door and recalling so many times Gabriel and I spent in this room together. The good and the bad. The passionate embraces. The fierce arguments. The emotional breakdowns and the loving promises of a life lived together through it all. Our voices echo off the wall, like ghosts playing out my memories in a spectral play. I watch it until my eyes grow heavy. I leave the steam-filled room and return to the bed, pulling on one of his discarded t-shirts as I go.

And I sleep.

When the sun rises, I find a plate of toast and three cookies on the nightstand.

Rubbing the dried tears that have pinched at my face, I sit, eat and drag myself up. After a quick rummage through Gabriel’s clothes, I find a top, some grey joggers that won’t fall down and slide on his leather jacket. The house is cold, the radiators are off and the vast hallways always were drafty.

It’s the strangest experience to walk the landings of this house once more. To see the priceless works of art still hanging on the walls. The suit of armour gripping onto the same axe I used to cut through Toby’s bedroom door. The door which is sealed closed now and very much in one piece. There’s no pull to enter it any longer. I know who Toby Smith was. And I have no interest in reliving the life that was to be with him. I knew Tobias Kendryk and he is not in this house at all.

I pass the doors to Grayson’s bedroom. They’re hanging by their hinges and scorched black with his lightning.

I don’t even glance inside.

There’s no point. I have no interest in a dead monster’s bedroom.

Down the stairs I go and onto the first landing where Collins, Hendrix and I slept.

The room I turned into a charcoaled mess with my fire, is untouched. The paintwork is pristine, and no fire damage can be seen at all.

Nothing is drawing me to any of those rooms at all.

But, at the far end of the hall, I see the double doors that lead into the beautiful library. A stunning room filled with all the books anyone could ever want to read. Not just the classics, but a remarkable occult collection. I recall volumes filled with invaluable information for any witch.

It’s all useless now.

Today, all I need to do is eat a good meal and stay awake for longer than an hour.

I carry on down the stairs and into the marble entrance lobby, coming face to face with Grayson’s office. The door is slightly ajar but the lights are off. To my right, in the direction of the kitchen, I hear the clinking of glasses and the clatter of plates. The smell of bacon wafts towards me and mixes with the scent of fresh coffee. My stomach scorns my dawdling with a painful grumble. This belly has been empty for years. Not once, by the age of seventeen, had I ever been full. Not until I met Toby.

I stand taller and eradicate the grumpy grimace that has become stuck on my face so that I can face Connor’s mum with a sliver of enthusiasm and optimism. After all, I’m not the only one who has lost everything in one fell swoop. She’s missing her husband and child too. And they had each other for much longer than I had mine.

But when I reach the kitchen door and see her sobbing over a pan of burning bacon and gripping a bottle of whiskey in her hand, I know that I just can’t deal with anyone else’s pain right now. And besides, I get the feeling that she wouldn’t want me to see her like this. It’s a private moment. Like my shower breakdown was.

I back away and return silently to the lobby, passing the games room where an unfinished game of pool lies abandoned, and empty bottles of beer remain un-binned.

It’s eerie, being here when it’s so empty. No Kendryks. No Nomad guards. No sadistic vampire stalking about. It seems larger somehow, and it was already pretty damn big in the first place. It’s like I’m in a museum, surrounded by things I shouldn’t touch. And when I pass Grayson’s office, the room he would summon me to and only offer admittance when invited and accompanied, I remember that I am not in a museum.

And I can touch whatever the fuck I want.

I push open the heavy double doors and step inside his fortress of solitude and flick on the light. The crystal chandelier lights up the room.

And I just lose my fucking shit.

Screaming with a fiery rage, I hurl anything I can get my hands on, smashing and breaking everything that he loved and treasured. The vases. The lamps. The books. The notes. The art. The ornaments. His collectables.

When I’m done, a hurricane could have ripped through this room. Panting, I hear Connor’s mum clear her throat. She’s standing in the doorway with two bottles of whiskey in her hands. She holds them out.

‘How about today, we just get absolutely pissed and eat all the junk food in the house, yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ I agree, struggling to catch my breath and clutching a stitch. ‘That sounds absofuckinglutely perfect.’

I retrieve a chair from the chaos and set it down, gesturing for her to take it. The accompanying chair didn’t survive my onslaught and is missing two of its legs so I slump into Grayson’s chair opposite, but not before scooping up the bottle she offers.

We clink and we drink.

‘Feel better?’ she asks, her eyes scanning the room. ‘Cos if this helps, what room can I trash?’

‘I think it’s helped a little,’ I nod, raising the bottle to my lips. ‘Grayson was fond of his greenhouse, I recall. Have at it.’

We gulp it down and let out a harsh gasp as it burns our throats.

‘I should know this,’ I say. ‘But I don’t. What’s your name?’

‘Lois,’ she says. ‘Lois Quinn. I hope you don’t mind, but I kinda had a rummage through the house while you were resting,’ she tells me a little anxiously. ‘Not Gabriel’s room, of course, nor this one, but most of the others.’

‘Find anything interesting?’

‘One hundred and seventy-eight thousand pounds in cash, eight priceless pieces of art that are reported as stolen, a diamond the size of my fist and some very questionable pornography in the bedroom which belonged to that vile vampire.’

‘That’s a lot of cash.’

‘Enough for us to get away and start afresh. Then there’s the antiques and jewels we can sell. I thought that perhaps we could hunt down their bank details too. Drain their accounts.’

‘Do we really need that much money? They had millions, you know.’

‘If we don’t take it, the government will. Think of all the people we could help with it.’

‘Yeah. Sure.’ I shrug and take a swig of whiskey. ‘I’ll have a look in here. I bet there is more cash and personal details in Grayson’s desk.’

I look down at the drawers either side of me and start emptying them out. I have no idea what we’re looking at. I’ve never dealt with finances or bills, so I hand them to her and tend to my drink. When I go to open the third drawer, I find it locked.

Not for long. As Lois flicks through the paperwork, I make light work of hacking open the last drawer. It springs open and slams into my shin.

‘Anything interesting?’ she asks half-heartedly, her eyes scanning a bank statement.

I shift some manilla envelopes around but fail to see anything more.

‘Nope,’ I sigh. ‘Just-’

My fingers brush the base of the drawer and I freeze, overcome with shock at the light humming I feel emanating from the wood below my fingertips.

It’s faint but fuck if it isn’t familiar.

Lois swears in surprise as I fall to my knees and toss the envelopes out in haste.

‘What is it? Lilly, what have you found?’ She leaps to her feet, peers over the desk and watches me on my knees as I franticly rest my palm, and then my ear, against the base of the drawer.

A smile creeps across my lips as I look up at her.

‘Child, why on earth do you have your head in that drawer?’

‘Because, Mama Quinn, I can feel magic!’

She practically leaps over the desk and we both heave the whole thing out, landing on our backsides with the drawer between us. I struggle to get my fingers to master a good grip on the fake bottom of the drawer as my wrist is broken, so Lois dives in, using both her hands to prise it free. Inside is a thick metal box sealed shut with a combination lock. When I hold it, the vibrating grows stronger, as does my excitement.

‘We need a code. To open it we need a code!’ I’m ready to start searching the office, the house, the world! But she simply tuts and takes it from my hand.

‘A code, indeed. Honestly. All we need is silence now hush.’

She presses it to her ear and slowly starts to spin the dial.

It’s agonising to wait but within the hour, she achieves the final click we were aiming for.

She hands it to me.

‘Open it,’ she whispers with sparkling eyes.

I lay it on the floor with care and flick open the lid.

‘Fuck…’ I whisper. I reach in and retrieve the small black notebook with the silver star engraved on its cover. ‘It’s Rebecca Hooper’s journal!’

‘Is that the magic you feel?’ she asks, almost bouncing on her knees.

I let my fingers rest on the faded star and nod.

‘Yeah. Strange. It never hummed like this before. How can I even sense it now? The Arcane realm is sealed off, right? There shouldn’t be any magic here. I do-’ I lose my train of thought when I see that the journal isn’t the only object within the box. Lois takes the book from my hand and flicks through it. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘What is it?’ she asks, half distracted by the book. ‘These words make zero sense, you know. What language even is this?’

‘Arcanian,’ I reply absentmindedly as I pick up the small bundle of dirty cloth, knowing instantly what is wrapped inside it. How could I forget? This is what started it all in the first place. I flip open the fabric and there it is.

‘Ew,’ she sneers. ‘This book is wet. Like the ink-’

‘It’s my Bloodstone,’ I tell her in hushed astonishment, taking the crystal in my hand and holding it between my fingers so I can inspect it thoroughly. ‘And I sense magic. Wait… I think… what is that?’

‘What? What?!’

I hold the stone to my ear.

My eyes widen as I realise, ‘I can hear it talking,’ I tell her, holding it out. ‘Can you hear it?’ I press it to her ear but she shakes her head. ‘How is this possible? Stones don’t talk in whispers.’ I press it once more to my ear but fail to make out what’s being said.

‘When you say your Bloodstone, what do you mean by that exactly?’

‘Well, when I first came here – five years in the future – I was having trouble controlling my magic and I nearly killed them all by setting the house and Grayson’s orchard on fire. He tricked me into making a Bloodstone with him. It was his fault I lost control in the first place. Bastard sent one of his lackeys to inject me with adrenaline. I exploded and nearly took poor Collins with me. He said I could only stay if I agreed to make a Bloodstone with him.’ I hold out the clear crystal between us and lean in. We both do. ‘This is the crystal we used to create the Bloodstone. This exact one but… can you see that?’ I ask.

‘The red smoke in the very centre?’ Lois answers. ‘Is it supposed to do that?’

‘That smoke wasn’t there when I made the Bloodstone with him. It was completely clear.’

‘I’ve read about Bloodstone magic. Tell me again, though. Just so I’m clear. How did you make it?’

‘The idea of a Bloodstone is that the holder of the stone can control when and where the witch – whose blood is inside the stone – can use their magic. The stone is infused with magic you see. That’s what Grayson said anyway. He said that certain objects, when exposed to power long enough, can absorb it. Like a sponge.’ I gesture to myself. ‘And that a witch that has Sensativa can access it.’

‘Makes sense. A Sensativa Witch can access magic from any source.’

‘Exactly. This stone came from Tintagel. It was a safe haven for witches, centuries ago. The crystal formed in the ground beneath a coven of witches that lived there for hundreds of years, soaking up all their energy. It was the last one left, according to Grayson. He said all the other items infused with magic were used up in the war five hundred years ago.’

‘So what did you do to create a Bloodstone?’

‘I gave my blood willingly. I had to cut my wrist. It was unpleasant, to say the least. Then Grayson added his, and Gabriel did too. Even then, I didn’t like the idea of Grayson being the only one to have power over the Bloodstone, so I had Gabriel add his blood too. That way, he could control my power and also find me if I got taken.’

‘Hold on. Find you?’

I nod, thinking all this was obvious, especially to Lois Quinn, who was hailed as a coven archivist and genius.

‘Yeah. When Theo took me, Grayson used the Bloodstone to find me. It was connected to a binding spell I wore on my wrist with words sewn into it by thread soaked in my blood.’

‘So, he could find you?’ Lois asks, shuffling her legs as she kneels. ‘Grayson could find you because he added his blood to the Bloodstone, which means that Gabriel could also find you, yes? As he added his blood to the Bloodstone?’

‘Yeah. It was like a supernatural homing beacon. No matter where I was, they could find me.’

Her eyes narrow and she dons the exact same expression her son wears when his brain works a mile a minute.

She suddenly flicks her eyes up to me and points at the stone.

‘If this is where this Bloodstone is now, then where is the one with your blood? Where did you leave the working Bloodstone five years from now? The one with Gabriel’s blood in it too?’

‘Well, I lost it.’

‘Where?’

‘I don’t-’

‘WHERE, LILLY? THINK! WAS IT HERE?’

‘No need to yell, jeez! No, it wasn’t at the house. The house was destroyed by then.’

She leans over and looks me dead in the eye.

‘Is the Bloodstone, containing your blood, in the Arcane Realm?’ she asks sternly.

I think back. ‘I awoke in the woods after being over there and-’ I caress my neck, remembering the panic I felt as I realised that it wasn’t there. ‘The necklace wasn’t on me. So it must be over there.’

‘So the active Bloodstone, with your blood fueling it with your magic, the magic of the Arcane witch, is over there, in the Arcane Realm?’ Her eyebrows raise. ‘With Gabriel, who can use that same stone to find you because his blood charges it too?’

‘Yeah. But what does that matter?’

‘It matters because two Bloodstones that are identical, one here and one there, can make a bridge. You just completed three Bloodstones, Lilly. Think about it. One over there and one here.’

‘Wait are you saying…’ I look at the stone with the faint speck of swirling red mist and press it closer to my ear. ‘Holy shit. It’s him! It’s his voice. I can hear Gabriel!’

She grabs the journal and almost smacks me in the nose with it as she thrusts it in my face. ‘And the journal? Where is the future version?’

‘In the Arcane Realm too,’ I whisper.

‘I knew it. Look. Look here, this page… the ink is wet.’ I touch the glistening letters and show her the tips of my fingers. ‘It’s blood,’ she tells me, letting out a sudden bark of a laugh. ‘It’s Gabriel’s blood! I bet you! He’s sending it to you.’

‘Huh?’

She grabs my wrist and holds it so the stone is level to my eyes. ‘So you can add it to the Bloodstone, silly. With yours. He’s with Rebecca Hooper. The woman who created the Arcane Realm. I bet you, all the riches in this house, that she’s figured out a way to get you over there.’

I scan the cursive scratching, and by a miracle, I can read them! The wet words are not written in Arcanian like the rest of the words in the book. These words were never in the other journal. I fill with undisputable hope. ‘They’re instructions. Oh my god… they’re instructions on how to get us home.’ I point. ‘Us! It mentions you too!’

And they’re signed off:

Get your arses over here!

All our love,

Gabriel, Amara, Dad, Collins, Tobias, Connor, Rebecca

And Callie.

‘Holy shit, Mama Quinn. We’re going home!’

‘Huh…’ comes the deep and jagged scoff of a familiar brute.

We both turn to see Hendrix leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. I wondered where the hell he had got to. I had allowed myself, foolishly, to think that perhaps he’d died on the battlefield. Hendrix looks at the journal and raises his brow.

‘So. You’ve figured out a way to get to the Arcane Realm then? You’re nothing if not resourceful. I’ll give ya that, Little Witch. So, when do we go?’

‘Hendrix Spencer,’ Mama Quinn snarls.

‘The one and only,’ he smirks. ‘Look. I know you’re human now. Ya ain’t got magic so no way you’re gonna be able to fight or refuse me. I could kill ya-’ He clicks his fingers. ‘Just like that. Right here and now.’ He shrugs. ‘But I don’t fancy staying here on my own. And after your spell, it seems I can no longer create any more of my little vampire-like creatures. Believe me,’ he adds with a roll of his eyes. ‘I’ve been trying, but they all die.’ He shrugs and looks at me. ‘So, for now, I’m all yours. What do you need, Little Witch? How do we get over to-’

Lois moves fucking quick, pulling out a gun from her waistband and shooting Hendrix right between the eyes. He sways on the spot for a moment before falling flat on his face.

Blinking, I look from the dead vampire to Mama Quinn, my mouth agape.

‘Nice shot!’

‘I’m a Nomad, dear. If I know anything, it’s how to use a gun. I may not know the details, but I saw how Connor reacted on the battlefield when he saw that creature. Fuck him. He’s not worth a second more of our time.’ She rests the gun on her lap and looks at me with a grin. ‘So. Home, huh?’