“My father would want me to stay where I felt safest!” I snapped. Chatham had good intentions, but I was over men telling me what to do or think.
“You might feel safe,” Edgar said, almost begging, “but you’re in shock—”
“I’m not going anywhere without Nicco! I’m not leaving.”
Thump-thump.
They felt like the most defiant words I’d ever said.
I wasn’t sure if it was his pulse or mine.
Chatham sucked in a breath. He couldn’t make me leave, not with Nicco standing there. Not that he would have regardless. “Do you have everything you need?” he asked.
I nodded. I had the ghoststick and the map. That was all I needed.
“Do you have your phone?” Edgar’s eyes welled, like he’d already lost me. “And your charger?”
“Oui.” I stepped back into the house, also getting teary. “And I’m fine.”
“She’s safe here,” Nicco said.
“She’d better be, or I can promise that your family will not live to terrorize another member of this community.”
My lungs pinched, waiting for Nicco’s reaction.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, and swung the door shut.
I hated this. Papa Olsin, may he rest in peace, was wrong: Nicco would never hurt me.
But Papa hadn’t been wrong about me opening the attic.
Papa was dead.
I started for the stairs, throat burning. I didn’t want Nicco to see that all of the stitches holding me together were threatening to pop.
“Adele.” When I turned back around, his eyes were filled with worry. “He’s not wrong . . . about Brigitte . . .”
Defensiveness flooded my veins as the same old fight brewed. “I’m not going to let you push me away!”
He stepped closer and brushed the hair from my face. “Please, don’t.” His voice was soft. “But do you really feel safe here?”
“Sì. You’re here.” A clatter came from outside, and a chorus of muffled voices hummed. “Is that . . . ?”
“Chanting?” he finished.
“Against thy enemies, you shall protect.”
A chill pricked my spine, the words registering with eerie familiarity.
Gabriel whipped down the stairs and opened the door. “What do you think you’re—?”
“No harm will come under your mighty shield.”
His fangs snapped out, but before he could pounce, Nicco smacked a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a protection ward.”
Protection ward?
I pushed him aside to see for myself. Edgar, Chatham, and the boys were standing on the street, facing the house, hands linked, chins up to the moon. Purple sparkles poured down from the wrought iron balcony above, lighting up the estate as their voices sang: “To the people, to the witches, of this house. Reflect. Protect. Reflect. Protect.” A hexenspiegel floated over the house.
Gabriel and Chatham exchanged a nod, and the tension diffused as quickly as it arose. Nonetheless, my pulse continued to rise, the chant echoing in my head. I backed away from the door, eyes watering as other words punched out of my memory. His words. “This secluded enough for you?” The memory of his breath fogging against my neck.
“Reflect. Protect. Reflect. Protect.”
“I’m going to smash you into the Underworld.” I spun away from Nicco, cheeks burning, as if the Brute was right here, taunting me. “You’ll know what a real Fire witch feels like.” A hand brushed my waist, and I lurched forward, stumbling over my feet, but Nicco scooped me up just before I bit the black and white marble floor. “Got you!”
Panic erupted inside me. I clung to him, refusing to turn around.
“Adele, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You think Niccolò will still want you after this?”
“Adele, you can go back with them if you want. You don’t have to stay here.”
“What?” I turned to face him, trying to act normal. “I don’t want to go anywhere. Nothing’s wrong.” My lungs pinched. “I want to be here. I don’t want to be separated.” I blinked so the tears would stay locked inside. I couldn’t look at him. Breathe, Adele.
His arms circled around me, and the weight of his shoulders was grounding.
Breaths passed. And so did the memory. The panic subsided.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He pulled me down to sit on the steps next to him.
I had to say something or it would be weird. Weirder than it already was. “Callis told me that if I didn’t bring him your grimoire, he would kill my dad.” It was true. And it was distressing, even if it hadn’t been the thing that caused the near-panic attack. “I would never betray you . . . but—”
“Adele, don’t worry about me or my grimoire. I would never make you choose me over your father. We’re in this together.” His hand slid over my hip, and he pulled me closer. “In this world or any other.”
“Any other?” A smile peeked out.
“It is a pretty brilliant plan. I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t think of it myself. I guess I don’t think like a witch anymore.”
I slid my hand up his sweater sleeve to the mark he kept so well hidden. “Maybe you should.”
As my fingers grazed his skin, he shuddered, and it made me swell with power.
No Ghost Drinker could ever take that away from me. From us.
A crash came from above, rattling the chandelier, and I jolted back. “What was that?”
He gazed up at the ceiling, annoyed. “Remember those two witches from the swamp?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I told you, we didn’t kill them.”
“Oh. I’d always been too afraid to ask what happened to them.”
He squeezed my leg. “You can ask me anything.”
“Do you still want to kill León?”
“Sì.”
“Will you come to Guinée to help save my father?”
“Sì.” A quizzical expression formed. “That’s how you want to get to the Afterworld? The Gates to Guinée?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He was unable to hide the surprise in his voice. “You know the way to Guinée?”
“Mm-hmm.”
The way he looked at me, I swore I could feel my Fire. We are going to do this. We are going to Guinée.
I hoped one day the Daures would understand. I couldn’t do it on my own, but I couldn’t risk any of their lives. I needed the Medici to help me defeat Jakome.
Nicco I trusted implicitly. The others I trusted for now. We had a common goal that superseded the centuries-long feud between our families. The Salazars were the tie that bound us into a singular sinister tapestry. Time would tell what the final threads would reveal, but only one side would end up with the Medici grimoire.
L’elisir di vita.
CHAPTER 6
Unforgiveable
“The Gates of Guinée are a fable,” Emilio scoffed.
Adele didn’t waver.