CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I stood there staring, utterly gobsmacked at the door that shouldn’t exist.
What the hell? I reached out my hand.
The hinges creaked when I pushed the large, book-
covered panel even farther away from the wall to reveal a narrow passageway. I couldn’t see much—the only source of light was a small yellow lantern that hung from the ceiling—except for the fact that the walls were made of large gray stones. I stepped inside.
The narrow passageway was long and winding, with lanterns placed sporadically to light the way. The floor was nothing but dirt.
Where am I? The passageway looked like it belonged in an ancient castle in medieval England, not a conservative, two-story house in the middle of Nowhere, Georgia. Was it possible that I’d stepped through some magical portal, transporting me to another time and place entirely? I shook my head but kept inching along.
The passage began to widen, and after rounding the last curve, I found myself standing in a large, dome-shaped room with walls that were a strange mixture of polished metal and compacted dirt. A web of ropes hung from the ceiling, and there were wide hooks attached to the metal paneling of the walls that held a large collection of weaponry. My mouth dropped open as I took in the assortment of long and short swords, sabers, scimitars, rapiers, daggers, spiked maces, longbows with matching quivers of arrows, and other strange, yet dangerous-looking objects I couldn’t identify.
I turned and nearly jumped out of my skin. Gareth was standing a few feet away, holding a long, heavy-looking sword in his hand. His back was to me, and he was wearing a plain white t-shirt and some loose sweatpants. The sword in his hands was long and curved, the blade a deep copper color.
I stared as Gareth began to move, flinging the blade around his head as though it weighed nothing. He lunged forward, striking the air, and the sword moved so gracefully it might have been a natural extension of his arm.
I think my eyes may have bugged out of my head as I watched Gareth attack his invisible opponent with a skill and ease that bespoke long years of practice. I gasped in sheer admiration and astonishment as he executed a maneuver I’d only ever seen in movies.
At the sound, Gareth whirled around and darted forward, the sword aimed at my chest.
I screeched and threw myself backward, landing hard on my ass. I was more shocked than hurt, but my entire body was shaking as I stared up at my uncle.
“Dammit, Lainey, I could’ve killed you!” Gareth roared, moving the blade away from my chest. He wiped the sweat from his brow and reached down to help me to my feet. “What are you doing down here?”
“What am I doing down here?” I dusted the dirt from the back of my pants. “What am I doing down here?” I threw my arms out. “I don’t even know where the hell I am!”
Gareth let out a long sigh and shifted from one foot to the other as if he wasn’t sure what to say next. “Serena told me—” he started, then shook his head. “No, let’s start with the easy stuff first. You’re in the training room.” His casual use of the term—as if he’d said ‘grocery story’ or ‘library’—sent a surge of anger through me.
“Oh, the training room?” I glared at him. “Well, that explains everything.”
“Look, I know you’re upset—”
“Upset?” My voice was rising, shrill and punctuated. “Now, why would I be upset? Oh, I know! Maybe it’s because I just found out that I’m a witch—a fact that you conveniently forgot to tell me for almost seventeen years! Or it could be that I just got attacked by a freaking tree. And let’s not forget the fact that my house has a hidden dungeon in it where my uncle likes to show off his secret ninja skills and throw around a sword!” I tilted my head in mock thought. “Nope, can’t see any reason at all why I should be upset.”
“A ninja?” Gareth scoffed.
“Fine. Warlock.” I threw my hands in the air. “Whatever.”
The smile faded from Gareth’s face, and he blinked a few times before he spoke again. “Come on. I’ll explain everything.” He walked over to a pair of chairs near one of the weapon racks. I huffed and followed him, plunking myself down in one of the seats.
After he had wiped down his sword with a soft cloth, Gareth hung the weapon in its rightful place on the wall and sat opposite me. “Okay,” he said, his face serious. “Where do you want me to start?”
“How come you never told me the truth about Mom?”
Gareth sighed. “I was planning to tell you. I had it all thought out in my head, what I was going to say and do, but I could never seem to find the right time.”
“The right time?” I clenched my hands into fists. “You should’ve told me when I was old enough to understand. I deserved to know the truth about my mother, about what happened to her and my dad.” My voice cracked, but the words kept coming. “I trusted you.”
Gareth cleared his throat, visibly trying to keep his emotions at bay. “I’m sorry, Lainey. I was just trying to do what I felt was right.”
His face was pained, and his eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Children don’t come with an instruction manual, and in your case I didn’t know what to do because I had to keep you safe. That was everyone’s priority. I let that stand in the way of my judgment. Telling you would have been the best thing, I know that now.” He wiped a hand across his face. “But I never meant to hurt you or break your trust. I’m so sorry.”
The remorse in Gareth’s eyes hit me harder than I thought it would. My throat constricted, making it hard to swallow. “What about telling me I was a witch? Were you just gonna wait until I woke up levitating or turned my English teacher into a lawn gnome?”
“No, of course not.”
I fidgeted in my seat, fighting the urge to scream. “You can’t say ’of course not.’ Serena told me about the pulses, how your cloaking spells are failing. Were you planning to wait until something bad happened to finally clue me in?”
Gareth sighed and put his head in his hands. “I was wrong not to tell you, to keep you in the dark about who you are, but this life isn’t easy. There is danger everywhere—people who would stop at nothing to harm you just for who you are, what you can do. I guess I just wanted you to have as normal a life as possible for as long as possible.” He sat up straight in his chair. “Does that make sense?”
“It does,” I replied. “But you should’ve told me.”
“You’re right. I should have.”
A few minutes passed, and then Gareth leaned forward. “It’s true, then. The Continuance?”
I nodded. “Apparently. Although Serena doesn’t really know why Josephine established the bond. She said it’s extremely rare.”
“It is,” Gareth confirmed. “And I think I might know the answer to that.” He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “What did Serena tell you about her—about Josephine DuCarmont?”
I shrugged. “Nothing, really. Only that we’re related, and that the DuCarmonts were a very powerful family of witches. That’s why Mom was . . . murdered.” I swallowed. It was still hard to wrap my head around. “Because she was a DuCarmont.”
Gareth’s face was as serious as I’d ever seen it. “Yes, but that’s not the only reason.” He glanced around the room, almost as if he were afraid of someone listening. His next words were hardly louder than a whisper. “Lainey, she was killed because she was the Keeper.”
“The Keeper?”
Gareth nodded. “Yes, the Keeper of the Grimoire.”
“The what? Gareth, I don’t—”
“A grimoire is basically a textbook of magic. It’s specific by coven and contains all of the spells, charms, and rituals performed by those witches. Each coven has one, and the books themselves are very powerful talismans of magic. To keep them from falling into the wrong hands, a Keeper is destined to protect it, to keep it safe. The more powerful the coven, the more valuable the grimoire would be.”
Gareth took a deep breath and continued. “Josephine DuCarmont was the Keeper of the Grimoire. And like her, your mother was as well.”
I didn’t know what to say. I stared at Gareth, trying to wrap my head around the new information. “So Mom was killed because of a book?”
“Yes,” Gareth breathed out. “But Lainey, you have to understand, the Grimoire isn’t just any old book. The DuCarmonts were the most powerful witches of our realm, and their grimoire contained magic more potent than any other in existence. Power like that—well, let’s just say the DuCarmonts had their fair share of enemies, people who would stop at nothing to get their hands on the book.”
In my mind, remnants of my visions flashed before my eyes: the worn book in Josephine’s hands, the man in black demanding to know where it was hidden, the emerald amulet, the picture of my mother.
“The necklace,” I whispered. “It’s the Grimoire.” I wiped my face with my hand. “Did they take it?”
Gareth looked confused.
“When they killed my mom,” I supplied. “Did they take the Grimoire?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “They did.”
The knot in my stomach grew. I nodded, not sure what to say next.
“The Continuance,” Gareth continued. “I think it’s a warning of some kind.” He began to pace. “You see, Keepers don’t just protect the book. They are the only ones who can truly wield its power. It’s as if the book is the lock, and the Keeper—”
“Is the key,” I finished for him. “But they killed her. My mother. If she was the Keeper, why would they kill her?”
“It’s a well-protected coven secret.” Gareth stopped pacing and faced me. “Your mom told me the night she left. It’s likely that they killed her before realizing she was the only one who could harness the book’s power. Lainey, you have to understand that you are the only living person with DuCarmont blood running through your veins. Which means—”
“By default, I’m the new Keeper.” I sucked in a breath of air. “Aren’t I?”
“Yes,” Gareth said. “Serena thinks you are in some kind of danger, but I’ve kept you hidden from the Supernatural world for years. No one knows you exist.” Gareth’s face was grim. “But you’re strong, like your mother, and the cloaking spells aren’t working anymore. The dryad was proof of that. Lainey, if more people find out about you—”
“I know,” I said. “The big, bad wolf will come after me. But who—” A knot formed in the pit of my stomach. “Wait.You just said I’m the only one left with DuCarmont blood. Serena said the same thing. But that’s impossible. What about you?”
All the blood drained from Gareth’s face.
“Gareth,” I tried again, louder this time. “You’re my uncle. You were her brother. You’re a DuCarmont, too . . . aren’t you?” I searched his face, anxious to see recognition of his mistake, but there was nothing but guilt. That look said everything.
“I’m gonna throw up.” I pushed out of the chair and crossed the room. A worn bucket sat in the corner, and I snatched it up, gripping its sides while my stomach pitched and rolled.
Gareth walked up behind me but didn’t say a word. I waited until I was certain I wasn’t going to hurl before I turned to face him. “You’re not my real uncle.” It wasn’t a question.
“No,” he confirmed, “I’m not.”
I took a deep breath and turned back toward the trash can just in case. I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to spill the tears of frustration that were forming.
I gripped the can for a moment before finally shoving it away. It fell to its side with a loud clatter, and I whirled around to face Gareth, my chest heaving. “Was anything real?” I spat. “God, how many more secrets are you keeping from me?”
“None,” Gareth replied. “I swear.”
“How can I even trust you anymore?” I demanded, trying not to let the hurt show on my face. “I don’t even know who you are.”
Gareth grimaced. “Lainey, I will explain everything if you’ll give me the chance.” He took a hesitant step forward. “Please, you have to understand, everything I did, all the secrets, it was to protect you.”
I stepped backward, away from him. I wasn’t going to forgive as easily this time. “Start talking.”
With a heavy sigh, Gareth began to speak. “Your mom, Serena, and I were friends; more than that, really. We were family. We grew up together, did everything together.” He swallowed. “So when things got bad and your mom had to go into hiding, Serena and I went with her. We thought it would be safer, that the three of us would be strong enough to protect each other.”
Gareth broke off, his voice choked. He took a few deep breaths and kept going. “Everything was fine for a few years. Your mom met your dad, and they had you. It was the happiest I’d ever seen her.”
Gareth walked back over to the table and sank down into one of the chairs, as if the burden of his story weighed heavily upon him. “After your dad was killed, she knew it was only a matter of time. She knew she had to leave, to run, so that you would be safe. She made me promise to take you away, to hide you from everyone.” He looked up at me, his eyes full of grief. “You were calling me Uncle Gareth from the time you learned to talk. It was just easier.”
He sniffed. “I loved her, Lainey, and I swore to look after you, to keep you safe. And that’s what I’ve tried to do these last sixteen years.”
My head was swimming. It made sense, and I even understood why he’d kept so many secrets from me, but it still didn’t diminish the betrayal and anger boiling underneath my skin.
“I was planning to show you this place,” Gareth said, his voice breaking through my thoughts. “I can’t help you with your magic, but I can show you how to protect yourself.” He stood up and walked over to the weapons wall. He retrieved the bronze sword he’d been using earlier, as well as a sheathed dagger the size of my forearm.
He walked back to me, the smaller sword in his outstretched hand. “I’m good with most weapons, but long swords are my specialty.” He had a sheepish grin on his face; this was a side of Gareth I’d never seen before.
“I don’t understand,” I said, staring at the sword in Gareth’s hand but refusing to touch it. “Why can’t you train me to use my magic? If the pulses are the problem, I have to learn to control them, to keep my magic in check.”
Gareth’s face flushed, and he smiled sheepishly again. “Witches are incredibly secretive about their magic.” He motioned for me to take the sword. “My expertise is elsewhere, I’m afraid.”
I stared at him. Even though I knew the truth, it was still hard to fathom that the man in front of me, the man who had taken care of me my whole life, wasn’t who I thought he was. The ache in my chest nearly crippled me.
“And I’m guessing the reason you don’t know much about magic is because you don’t have any, right?” It seemed a logical enough question.
“Oh, I have magic,” Gareth replied. “Just not your kind of magic.” He pointed to the ceiling. “I created this room, for example.” He chuckled at little at the confusion on my face. “I’m one of the Fey. Warping dimensions is a specialty of ours.”
“The Fey?”
Gareth nodded. “Lainey . . .” He leaned in closer, resting his hand on my shoulder and looking me in the eye. “I’m a Faerie.”
I blinked. “A Faerie?
“A Faerie.”
“What the hell?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Everything I knew about Faeries involved clapping, pixie dust, and tiny shimmering wings. As I stared at Gareth, tall and broad with muscular shoulders and a menacing sword in his hand, I was having a hard time reconciling the two images in my brain.
“Like with wings and stuff?” I finally asked, unable to get the image of Tinkerbell out of my head.
Gareth laughed loudly. “In a manner of speaking, but with less glitter,” he replied, almost as if he could read my mind. “I’m a bladesmith by trade.” He took a step forward, urging me to take the dagger he was offering.
Not knowing what else to do, I gripped the thick handle of the dagger. It was heavy in my hand and incredibly foreign.
“Move around a little,” Gareth encouraged. “Get a feel for the blade. You might like a short sword better, but I thought we should start small.”
I took a step forward, holding the dagger awkwardly away from my body. My brain was muddled, and the longer I stood with the blade in my hand, the more overwhelmed I felt. With my pulse echoing in my ears, I dropped it onto the ground.
Gareth started to rush over, but I held out a hand to stop him.
“I can’t do this.” My voice was shaky, but strong. “I’m trying really hard to process all of this, but every time I think I have a handle on things, something even crazier happens.”
I clenched my hands into fists. “One minute I find out that everything I know about my family is a lie, then it’s ‘oh, hey, guess what? You’re a witch!’ And now, I find out that my mother was some kind of guardian for a book that got her killed, and my uncle is actually not my uncle at all. He’s friggin’ Tinkerbell!” My voice was high and shrill by the end of my tirade, and Gareth was staring at me, pain and guilt etched across his face.
“Lainey,” he began.
“No!” I shouted at him. “Just leave me alone.”
I turned on my heel and ran across the room to the pathway that led back to the house. Gareth called my name, but I kept running. It felt like the walls were closing in on me; I needed to get out of there, and fast.
I plowed into Gareth’s office. It was disorienting to return to the modern world, and I shook my head to clear it, slamming the door behind me.
I grabbed my purse and keys from the table in the hall and walked outside. There was no way I was spending one more minute in that house.
I threw myself into the car. I didn’t pay attention to where I was going, and I didn’t have a destination in mind. All I knew was that I needed to get away from my life for a while. I needed some kind of distraction.
So, I kept driving, determined to find one.