“…damage isn’t as bad as we feared. The Victorian addition is toast, but we managed to save the eastern wing of the house and most of the Norman keep. It looks as though structurally she won’t need much work, but smoke and water damage will have destroyed some of the interiors.”

The firefighter’s words filtered through my ears. I knew they were happening but I didn’t register any of them. Over his shoulder, his squad fired jets of water through the broken Great Hall windows.

He has no idea. My numb heart pattered against my chest. This damage is forever. We can’t ever repair what’s been broken tonight.

I sank against a wall of warm bodies, allowing my boys to hold me upright. Pulses of magic fed through my body – Arthur’s heat tempered by Flynn’s coolness, Rowan’s deep, rich earth and Blake’s sizzling spirit. I registered the energy but felt none of it.

“We can go back in?” Flynn asked, wiping a strand of red hair from his face.

The firefighter shook his head. “Not for a while yet. As soon as it’s safe, the SOCO team need to go through and collect evidence. We gather a serious crime was committed here, so you’ll need to give a statement to the police before you leave tonight. You’ll also need to have a structural engineer look at the building as soon as possible. I’ll go over some information with you on what to do next, but for the meantime, I suggest you find somewhere safe to sleep for the night.”

“They’ll be staying with us,” Clara said, hitching her black shawl up her shoulder. I looked around for Ryan but couldn’t see him. The red fox still twined around her legs, curiously unafraid of the burning castle or the hordes of people.

Faces flicked in my vision. Clara. Isadora – brushing dirt and fae blood off the hem of her silk dress. Robert Smithers – his eyes focused, his face surprisingly calm for his first jaunt outside the institution in twenty years. Aline…

My mother stood off to the side, her arms around Corbin’s mother and her head bent toward Andrew as she spoke in hushed, hurried tones. How had she pulled this off? How had she got so many witches here so quickly? My mind swam down a dark river, but I wasn’t going to get answers tonight.

Thick arms wrapped around me. “It’s over, Maeve,” Arthur whispered in my ear. He smelled of sweat and smoke and blood.

Inspector Wallace called us over. Unlike his interrogation at the church when he’d all but accused us of having something to do with the black fog, his voice choked with empathy. He wanted to know about the villagers attacking the castle, the stakes, the last time I’d seen Corbin alive. We didn’t have a plan like we had back at the church, a script of what to say to avoid revealing the secrets of our powers. Corbin was the one with all the plans. I talked, but I didn’t hear the words I said. From the look on Wallace’s face, I gathered I wasn’t making a lot of sense.

The next thing I knew, I was walking through an unfamiliar hallway, my fingers tracing over faded Victorian wallpaper and stuffy gilt frames. It looked like a museum. Flynn and Blake held me between them, and we trailed after Ryan, who gestured into rooms and spoke words I didn’t hear. Obelix weaved around our feet, his fluffy tail swooshing against my bare legs as he darted between the rooms, his nose twitching with exciting new smells.

We’re at Raynard Hall. I had no recollection of getting in a car, of stepping out and seeing the impressive manor from the outside. But it must have happened.

Another moment passed. I sat at the island in a gleaming modern kitchen, a plate of hot stew in front of me. I stirred the food with my fork, contemplating my options – lift fork to lips, chew, swallow, or pick up bowl and toss it against wall. I could also tip it over my head, but that might cause burns. I was already burned out on the inside.

The idea of lifting the fork to my mouth seemed foreign, a thing not of my knowledge. A bald man in an immaculate black suit set down steaming bowls in front of everyone else. Flynn and Arthur scraped hungrily at theirs, but no one else touched the food.

Another moment. Kelly with her arms around me, sobbing into my ruined Blood Lust t-shirt. Her hair smelled of soot and sandalwood. I patted her back and said some words about everything being okay that neither of us believed.

It would never be okay again.

Another moment. The boys in an enormous walk-in rain shower, pulling off my clothes, holding me under hot water, sponging me down, rubbing shampoo through my hair. Arthur wrapped me in a fluffy towel and hoisted me into his arms. He carried me somewhere and settled me on an soft bed, sliding up beside me and cradling my body in his. The others piled on top, tangling their limbs around me, cocooning me in their warmth. They spoke in soft murmurs, but the words didn’t register.

Rowan wrapped his body around me. I lifted my neck so he could slide his torso beneath me like a pillow. My ear rested on his chest and his heartbeat thudded in my head, fast and furious and wrecked with pain. His tears pattered on my hair. He would cry a river for both of us.

I already knew enough about mourning to last a lifetime. I knew I wouldn’t cry. I couldn’t. It had taken a kiss from Arthur to wrest open the floodgates after my parents’ death, but now I wasn’t sure even that would do it.

My fingers groped for Corbin’s reassuring body – the one in my coven I always turned to for an explanation, for leadership. They found only Obelix’s furry body curled up against Arthur’s chest. How can we carry on without him? The idea of our coven still fighting, still existing without Corbin seemed ridiculous. It was like trying to drive a spaceship without arms.

Sleep must have come to me during the night, because I fell into a dream world. I walked down a wide, vaulted hall, the walls made of dark, veined stone that hummed with stored energy. There was magic in this place, wherever I was – built into the very fabric of it. My feet kicked up clouds of dust and sand as I jogged on and on and on, looking for a way out, for a reason why I was there, for another soul to talk to. But there was nothing except locked doors flying by on both sides and endless swirls of dust around my feet.

The hum of the magic drowned out all other sounds. I couldn’t hear my feet hitting the ground, or the pounding of my heart – nothing except that low, discordant hum. Until…

Maeve… a voice rasped. The sound boomed inside my head, driving back the hum and lighting up the dark world.

From behind the doors came such terrifying screams and shrieks that I broke into a full run to escape them. A creeping sense that something followed me spurned me onward. The voice rasped my name.

The voice was coming for me, and if it caught me… I’d be thrown into one of the locked rooms and the screams would be mine. I just knew I had to run.

If I can just find an exit, a way out of this labyrinth, I’d be safe. The hum rose again, and the screams rose with it, the two competing for my attention. My chest heaved, and cramps arced along my leg. Every step was agony, but I had to keep going. I couldn’t let it catch me. I couldn’t…

The hallway turned a corner, but all I could see were more doors. Screams pounded inside my head, driving out rational thought. I slowed to a hobble, dragging my cramping leg behind me, and flung myself at the next door. I’ll take the torture over this horrible chill creeping down my back. Just let me in!

The door didn’t budge. The rasping voice drew closer. The hum roared in my ears. Panic rose in my chest, and I slammed into one wall, then another. The voice loomed over me, closer, closer…

Maeve…

My hands groped in the dim light, tugging at the locks, scratching at the walls, tearing at my own skin. Get me out get me out get me out…

Maeve… the voice boomed between my ears, so loud it made me jump. It was right behind me.

Terror clung to my chest. I had to face it. I had to know.

I spun around. “Go away!” I yelled. The words came out as a tiny whisper. Something slammed into me, its weight knocking the breath from my lungs. My body slammed against the stone wall. A thick, heavy smell invaded my nostrils. Musty books. Ink. Leather. Home.

Corbin.

He grabbed my arms and held me upright so I didn’t fall. He looked exactly the same as the last time I’d seen him alive, his black t-shirt clinging to his tight muscles, his dark hair falling over his right eye. The creeping, itching sensation surged down my spine, and I twisted away from him. His hands gripped my arms like a vise.

“Hi Maeve.” Corbin kissed me on the forehead, his lips brushing my bangs – so warm, so real. He bent down to press his lips to mine, devouring me in a breathless kiss. Fire shot through my body, burning up the last of my doubt. It was Corbin. No one could kiss me like he did. My hands moved of their own accord, wrapping around his strong body. My fingers brushed a bone handle sticking out of the edge of his t-shirt, and the open wound underneath…

The wound that killed him.

It all flooded back, slamming into my body like a cold blast. This isn’t real. It’s a dream. Why did my stupid subconscious have to feed me this dream tonight, of all nights?

I pressed my hands against Corbin’s warm chest, my fingers touching where his heart should have been, but where nothing now beat. I shoved him with all my might, breaking our kiss as he staggered back and slammed into one of the doors.

“Get away from me,” I cried.

“Is that any way for a High Priestess to greet her loyal servant?” Corbin pulled himself up. The knife blade in his side jiggled as he moved.

“You’re dead,” I wailed.

“Damn right I’m dead,” Corbin grinned. He gestured to the walls of doors behind me. “I’m in the underworld, and right now, so are you.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” I moaned. “Why did you have to die?”

“Don’t worry, it was all part of the plan.” Corbin’s grin widened. “And before you get pissed at me for not telling you, I had to do it this way because you wouldn’t have let me do it otherwise. And before you think of blaming yourself or anyone else for my death, remember that even if you’d all held me down or locked me in the priest hole I still would have found a way to get myself here.”

“Why?” I sobbed. Why did my head have to conjure up this image of him? Why did he have to talk like he was still alive, like this was all some clever plan of his?

“Because this is our shot, Maeve. If we play this out right we can stop Daigh and the fae for good.” Corbin ran a hand through his dark hair. “And then you can bring me back.”