The Last Witch: Volume Two

‘Wake up, Beautiful,’ Gabriel whispers softly in my ear. His fingers gently run up and down my arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps as they go.

I bury my face further into my pillow. ‘I’m not sleeping. Just resting.’ Is my mumbled reply.

‘Either way, we need to get out of bed.’

‘No,’ I groan, pulling the duvet over my head.

He chuckles and pulls it off. ‘If I had it my way, I’d let you sleep. God knows you need it. But if we don’t get that lovely backside of yours into the library soon, Grayson’s going to come up here looking for an argument.’ He sweeps the hair from my face and rests his lips on my cheek with a lingering kiss. ‘I love you.’

‘Love you more.’

‘Not possible.’ He gets out of our nice warm bed and heads towards the wardrobe. ‘No one can love anyone as much as I love you,’ he adds with a wink over his shoulder.

His bedroom, is now our bedroom. And Gabriel has made sure that I feel as comfortable as possible in here with him. Considering that in here is the only place we are allowed to be together as a couple.

The third-floor rule.

The first thing he did was get rid of his bed. The antique four poster that had been in his family for hundreds of years was dismantled. It’s been replaced with a super-king, black, leather bed with a TV built into the foot end. I have to admit, I’m glad. I hated the idea of sleeping in a bed where he was forced to be with Ava. And so did he. So now, we snuggle up in our new, modern bed together and watch films until we fall asleep. I head over to the wardrobe we share and pull out a pair of jeans. Our clothes are all mixed up. There’s no order to our chaos. I groan as I slide on one of Gabriel’s baggy tops. The hits I received still hurt and my ribs protest my movements.

‘You need painkillers.’ He heads to the bedside table and digs about in the drawer before pulling out a pot of pills. Tipping two into his hand, he heads back, holding them out for me to take.

‘To be honest, I’d rather not. I don’t trust anything that may have come from Grayson. Last time I accepted something from him, I ended up unconscious and branded.’

‘Well. These came from the doctor. And I licked them. They’re paracetamol.’ He places the pills in my hand.

‘You licked them?’

‘Yes.’ He kisses my lips. ‘I licked them good. Now come on. It’s been over an hour since the session in the garden and Grayson will be getting impatient. We need to get to the library.’

‘Hand me some gloves, will you?’

He opens the top drawer of my dresser and selects a black pair with white lace trim.

‘So. What did Grayson want to talk to you about earlier? Down in the garden?’

‘First he wanted to know exactly what I found in London. I told him the same as Billy had. There’s no sign of Bias anywhere. We went to his old haunts. Nothing.’

‘Toby,’ I correct him. ‘I hate that he sent you to look for him. Grayson’s such a coward.’

‘I’m the only one that can get close enough. My compulsion is effective.’

‘For seconds,’ I remind him.

‘Which is more than anyone else can do. I just need to get close and I can get him. I know it. But no one can find the little psycho after you left him half-dead in the woods.’ He sits on the bed and pulls on his boots. ‘And we still have no idea how he got away in the first place, which is beyond infuriating.’

‘Have you heard from the others?’

His face falls the same as it does every time I ask about Amara or Collins. He shakes his head.

‘You would tell me if there was something I needed to know, right? Complete honesty, remember? We promised. No more lying to protect each other. If they’re hurt, you can tell me.’

‘I know. And I swear I’m telling you everything I know. From what I gather they’re at the Nomad camp under guard. I can’t imagine it’s entirely fun for them at the moment but they have each other. Same as we have each other.’ He gets to his feet. I watch him suspiciously but he keeps his composure well. ‘Say it,’ he insists, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Go on. Say it.’

‘Everything good?’ I ask with a fake cheeriness and an over-the-top smile.

He settles into a very calming expression, takes my hand in his and relaxes completely. ‘Absofuckinglutely,’ he replies. ‘Happy? Everything is absofuckinglutely fine.’

‘Happy,’ I reply. We have a code now. A code only the two of us know. If we’re ever unsure if a situation means danger, we simply ask the other, “Everything good?”. If they reply, “Absofuckinglutely”, it means all is well. If they reply “Absolutely”, it means trust nothing and no one. Not what you see or what you hear.

It means danger.

But his response means that as far as he’s aware, our missing friends are okay.

I suppose I should be thankful. No news is better than a severed finger in the mail.

‘You would think that after seeing what you did to the last man that pissed you off, he’d at least try and get on your good side. I mean, you are the most powerful witch on the planet. Talk about poking the bear.’

‘Not right now I’m not. Why would he care about being on my good side? Grayson doesn’t think for a second I’ll get my magic back from him, but I will. Somehow. And you said you wouldn’t mention that again. I’m not exactly proud of my actions at the Traitor Camp.’

He goes quiet and stares blankly into space. A look of anguish creeps across his features and I know where he’s gone. He doesn’t give a damn about the people I killed at the camp. Not one bit. But seeing my hair turn white, and learning the truth about what happened in that barn with Toby and then with Grayson, definitely affected him. Much more than he lets on.

‘You could stay up here and get some sleep if you want?’ I offer, keen to return him back to the land of the living. He shakes away the dark place he was immersed in momentarily, and beams at me.

‘No chance,’ he insists, running his hands down my arms and giving me his best smile. ‘I’m coming with you. Two heads are better than one and the sooner we get the rest of the journal translated, the sooner we can do the spell and figure out a way to get away from Grayson.’ He takes my hand and we head out onto the landing. Ste is waiting, along with another man named Jez. He’s Gabriel’s guard. Jez is deaf but can lip-read, so Gabriel can’t compel him with his words. He has a tranquilizer gun too and is not afraid to use it. Gabriel’s been hit too many times to count. Not only for his actions and words, but mine too.

As soon as we reach the stairs, Gabriel lets me go.

Because of the third-floor rule.

We can only be together up here in our bedroom. No one is to know we’re a couple. Ste and Jez know of course. But no one else. According to Grayson, it’s simply to ensure that we can’t be used against each other again. Gabriel was kidnapped to lure me out. And if Gabriel dies, they all die. It’s best we keep it on the down low.

Bull shit.

Grayson’s just humiliated I’ve chosen Gabriel over him and doesn’t want anyone to know. It was expected of us that we would end up together, apparently. The Coven Leader and the Arcane.

I’d rather die.

As we reach the second floor, Grayson calls up the stairs for Gabriel to join him in his office. I’m reluctant to let him go alone.

‘You head to the library and I’ll go see what he wants. On my way back, I’ll fetch us something to eat.’

‘Will you lick it to make sure it’s not poisoned?’ I laugh.

‘Jokes on you. I’ve been testing all your food and drink for months. Licking them all, good and proper.’

‘Aww. Thanks, baby,’ I laugh. ‘So sweet and not at all gross. Fine. Go see what the psycho wants and come straight back. Bring cookies.’

‘Please, is this my first day as the love of your life? Of course I’ll fetch you your cookies.’

‘Like, four boxes of cookies.’

He smiles down at me. ‘You’re gonna get all squidgy if you don’t start eating some vegetables. You can’t live of cookies you know.’

‘You won’t love me if I get squidgy?’ I ask, pouting out my lower lip.

‘I’d love you if you were nothing but a cookie sized squidge,’ he replies with the softest smile. ‘Stay in the library,’ he instructs.

‘I will. Don’t start a fight with Grayson.’

‘I won’t.’

‘I love you.’

He absolutely beams every time I say that to him. Like he can’t believe the words that he’s heard and that each time is the very first.

‘I love you more,’ he replies.

‘Impossible.’

‘In you go, Beautiful,’ he chuckles. ‘I’ll be back before you know it.’

He better, I think to myself as I head inside the library and he takes off downstairs.

∞∞∞

I truly adore this room. The Orchard’s library is utterly amazing and is this house’s only redeeming quality. The smell of the old books. The warm light streaming in through the windows. The quiet.

Well, usually.

The sound of a heavy thud, followed by a loud curse, drags my attention back to why I’m here in the first place. I walk further in, scouring the empty room for the source of the profanity. The tables and floors are stacked with books. Even more than before, because now, we have Connor Quinn and his literary collection here.

Another thump as a heavy book hits the floor echoes off the walls, followed by an, ‘Ahhh, Shite!’

‘Connor?’ I call out, scooping up abandoned book after abandoned book from the floor, like a trail of heavy, leather-bound bread crumbs. ‘Are you alright up there?’

From the upper gallery I hear some shuffling, more falling books and finally footsteps. A young man leans over the bannister. His long, curly, dark brown hair hangs over his eyes as he breaks out into an enormous smile.

‘Afternoon, Lilly,’ Connor chirps, in his thick Irish accent. ‘Did yer have any luck in yer training session this mornin’?’

‘Hey, Connor. No, I didn’t,’ I reply, placing the books in a neat pile before heading up to meet him. ‘Got some lovely bruised ribs and almost drowned, but that’s about it.’

‘Ahh, feck. Yer alright? Need to sit down?’

‘I’m fine. It’s more frustrating than anything.’

‘Well, I did tell yer man that it’s gotta be real, deep and genuine emotion. I keep tellin’ him, hopin’ he’ll lay off yer. But Grayson won’t listen,’ he says, walking towards me. He trips over his loose shoelace and stumbles, but pays no attention. The man trips over air. It’s just part of how he walks. ‘On yer own?’

‘Gabriel will be along shortly,’ I tell him as he nods absentmindedly.

As ever, he’s put very little effort into his appearance. Less than me. He’s wearing the rattiest pair of dark grey converse with holes and stains. The dirty laces trail behind him as he walks and gets stuck under his feet far too often. He’s always in a long-sleeved top with some kind of band t-shirt over the  top. On the left side of his neck, from beneath his jaw and disappearing under his shirt, is a thick mess of burn scars. I’ve never asked, and he’s never said what caused them. And he has never asked me about my various marks. Although he’s in his late twenties, he reminds me of a teenager. Uncoordinated. Distracted. But really, very sweet. He’s a Descendent from the south-west of Ireland. He lives in a Nomad camp over there, but has come to stay here to help translate the Journal. Connor holds out a pile of notes for me to take

‘How’s your Scottish-Gaelic?’ he asks.

‘Is that a euphemism?’ I laugh, taking them.

‘No,’ he says with a confused frown. ‘Why would that be a euphemism?’

‘It was a joke,’ I sigh, rolling my eyes at his utterly literal nature. ‘Why do you need to know Scottish-Gaelic?’

‘It’s the twelfth language I’ve found in your notes from the journal.’

‘Another language?’ I groan, looking down at the notes taken from the journal which may as well be a ball and chain around my ankle. We’re not allowed the whole book. Grayson has been photocopying pages and giving them to us a couple at a time. Connor translates some. Grayson others. And Hendrix even does a few. No one other than Grayson gets to read it all though. Who knows what he’s learnt reading it. ‘Bloody hell, Connor. This is taking so long.’

‘Sorry,’ he says sympathetically. ‘I’m trying my hardest for yer. But we’re nearly done. Shouldn’t be long now. We know you need all seven-realms and I’m getting so close to figuring out what the stone Rebecca keeps mentioning may mean.’

The journal seemingly was in complete gibberish when I first read it almost a week after getting the bloody thing. When anyone else read it, it wasn’t even words. Gabriel said all he could see were dots and squiggles. But I could see words. I just didn’t understand them. I read a line aloud and Grayson recognised a word. Effundum. It was Latin. And another, Scaoileadh. That was Gaelic. Turns out Rebecca had written her journal in a heap of different languages then added a glamour over it, making one thing seem like something else. The only person who can see through the glamour is another Arcane.

Me.

But I don’t know any of these languages. I’ve got good at Latin the past few months, mind.

So, I’ve had to write the whole lot out, exactly as it appears to me on the page, and the others translate whatever language it is in, into English. But there are hundreds of pages. With drawings, symbols and random paragraphs of text in no order whatsoever. It’s taking ages. Plus, I’m right handed. I can’t yet use my three-fingered hand well enough to write legibly. So most of the time, Gabriel scribes for me, and then the page is given directly to Grayson, Hendrix or Connor. Connor is not to discuss what he has translated with anyone, and the Nomads, Ste and Jez, watch us closely to make sure of that fact. The Irish Archivist has moved in to help with the translation full time. He reads over twenty languages. Has an eidetic memory and can do long calculations in his head. He’s a genius. And although he follows Grayson’s rules and refuses to discuss specifics of the journal – because Grayson will kill him if he does – I can’t help but love the guy. He’s so sweet. So kind and funny. And very innocent. All wide eyed and in love with the world. Even though the people in it haven’t been that great to him.

‘Another language?’ I groan, almost pleadingly. ‘Really?’

‘Afraid so. And my Scottish-Gaelic is shite. Like, non-existent really. I think Hendrix can speak it though. I’ll ask him to have a look.’

‘Found anything new about the Veil at least?’ I ask. ‘I know you can’t be specific. But anything that may be helpful?’

He gestures for me to follow him to the back of the stacks where he’s made a little office of sorts. A corner he’s claimed as his own. There are post-it notes, photocopies, diagrams and open books covering every inch of the wall, floor and the big oak desk that Grayson moved in there for him. There are coffee mugs, empty biscuits packets and plates dotted around the place, and he has to dig for the other pages we have to decipher.

He starts rummaging.

‘For a genius, your organisational skills are dreadful,’ I laugh.

‘Where did I put…’ he mutters, throwing books out the way. ‘Aha.’ He holds out a bundle of papers. ‘So… So far, we know that Rebecca Hooper used three spells to create the Veil. Each spell created a lock which we need to “turn”.’

‘Whatever the hell that means.’

‘Well…’ He peers past me, making sure we are out of earshot, and then leans in closer, talking in a whisper. ‘I found mention of three keys. Here.’ He hands me a sheet of my notes written in a language I can’t understand. ‘This part here says that there are three keys that fit into three locks.’

‘Like… A Yale? Or a Chubb?’

‘No,’ he laughs hard and even snorts. ‘Witches didn’t use Yale keys to create spells.’

‘Okay. Don’t break a rib, Connor. Not that funny. How am I supposed to know?’

But he clutches his side as he continues giggling. ‘Sorry. Sorry. Anyway.’ He shakes off the urge to continue his hysteria. ‘Where was I? Right. There’s a phrase here. “Lapis Pretiosus”. That’s Latin. Precious stones. And then here…’ He starts digging in more piles of papers. When he finds it, he thrusts it in my hands. ‘She mentions an heirloom. Something close to her heart, and the heart of her power.’

‘Well that makes no sense. Three keys to turn three locks. Some kind of precious stones. And an heirloom kept close to her heart. Great.’

‘No. No. Separate things. One heirloom. Something close to her heart and then something about the heart of her power.’

‘You know, you’re not supposed to tell me that. You could get in trouble with Grayson.’

‘I’ll tell yer what I can, Lilly. After all, we’re friends, right?’

‘Right.’ I grin back

‘Well, we still have a few pages left to go through today, but this is definitely the section we’ve been looking for. We’re super close now, Lilly. I can feel it. Yer ready to crack on?’

I perch on the edge of a very cluttered armchair while un-wedging a half-eaten pop tart from under my arse.

‘Ready when you are, Connor.’

∞∞∞

Gabriel comes in soon after we started. As promised, he hands me several boxes of cookies and tells me Grayson wanted to discuss the next session of Nomad interrogations. He greets Connor with a hug, muttering something into his ear as he does. Connor nods and mutters something back. As we all get to work, I ask Gabriel what he said to him.

‘Just asking if you’re alright.’ He shrugs, before swiftly changing the subject. ‘So, what have we got today?’

After a while, Connor take the pages Gabriel transcribes for me to the stacks down below on the other side of the library and gets to work on figuring out what language they are in. Still under the watchful eye of Ste and Jez, I continue reading more pages aloud as Gabriel scribbles the words down for me. The sun sets. The sound of the owls begin. And the house falls into the eerie quiet all houses plunge into when almost everyone inside is asleep.

‘I’m calling it a night, Lilly,’ Connor calls up to us. ‘I’ll give Grayson the last page on my way. See yer in the mornin’.’

‘Night, Connor,’ I call down.

‘Night, Gabriel.’

‘Night, mate.’ When the door closes, he leans back in his chair so he can see round the stacks to get a clear line of sight at the clock by the door. ‘Christ. It’s two in the morning. Come on, Beautiful. You need to sleep too.’ He stands with a stretch.

‘Gabriel?’

‘Yeah?’ he yawns.

I hold up the page I’ve been looking at for the last five minutes. Now Connor has gone and Jez and Ste are half asleep down below, I can finally show Gabriel what I’ve found.

‘What?’ he asks, kneeling beside me to get a closer look. ‘You found something?’

‘Yeah. I think I have actually. You see that image?’ I point to the seven-pointed star in the top right-hand corner.

‘It’s the Arcane star,’ he says casually. ‘Rebecca doodled it on loads of the pages. So what?’

‘Yeah. But look. It’s an Arcane star with a triangle in the centre. Does that mean anything to you?’ I run my finger over it. His eyes are still narrowed as he shakes his head. ‘Gabriel. My mum’s necklace? The one I lost at my uncle’s house? It was a seven-pointed star with a triangle in the centre. Exactly like this. And earlier, Connor said he found something about an heirloom.’

‘You think Rebecca was talking about your mum’s necklace? I mean, makes sense. You said it was passed down from mother to child. But what about the “precious stones”? Were there diamonds in it?’

‘Right in the centre was a deep red jewel. Like a ruby or something. The necklace could be what Rebecca was talking about. It might be essential to the spell!’ I jump to my feet but stumble and sway when I do. ‘Whoa. Stood up too fast.’ I go dizzy and he quickly gets to his feet to keep me on mine. ‘Bloody hell. What’s wrong with me? Has he drugged me again?’

‘You need sleep. And you need more in your belly than a few sodding cookies. I’m taking you to bed.’

‘We’re so close to getting out of here! If we lower the veil and you can get the full strength of your Mental magic back, you can take control of Grayson and get my-’

His hand slams over my mouth. ‘Are you insane?!’ he hisses. ‘If anyone hears our plan, all hell will break loose! Do you want Amara’s head to be delivered to you instead of her finger?’

‘Sorry,’ I whisper beneath the firm pressure of his hand. He peels it away and double checks no one else can hear us.

‘Yes, when I get full access to my magic again, I may be able to take control of him long enough to get your Bloodstone back. But if he thinks that I would dare, he may decide to Brand me too. At the moment, he needs all the witches he can get. He can’t protect you on his own and he knows it. Not with Theo, Jensen, Toby and the Hunters out there. Not to mention whoever tried to shoot you three months ago.’

My eyes flick to his chest and the scar that still remains.

‘If Grayson decides I’m a bigger threat than an asset, we’re both fucked. So don’t talk about it out here, okay?’

I nod.

‘Now. Let’s get some rest and we can tell Grayson in the morning. I swear to you, after a couple of hours sleep and a decent breakfast, we can tell him.’

‘No, we-’

‘Goddamn it. Why do you have to argue with me over every little thing? You can’t even stand, you’re so exhausted.’

‘I’m fine.’

He lets me go. And I fall to the floor like a sack of spuds. His eyes go black as he looks down at me lying at his feet. ‘Go to sleep, Lilly.’

‘Fucking prick,’ I mumble on the edge of consciousness.

‘That’s me alright,’ he sighs, scooping me up in his arms as my eyes start to close. ‘Look at me. Daring to take care of you. What a complete prick I am.’

‘Love you,’ I yawn.

‘Love you more.’

‘Im-po-si…’