Page 96

“How to be a better witch,” he replies, and I snort. “Savy, you're a handful. So was your mom, and look where that got her.”

I sneer. “Desperate enough to get away from you that she killed herself.” My gut is screaming at me that Mary was trying to protect us.

“Shut up.” He steps toward me.

Sleep.

He barely has time to shoot out a defensive spell, and I reel backward with the force of his hit.

“Don’t hurt her,” Aria growls, lunging toward me.

The door slams open, and Granny runs inside.

“Don’t trust him,” she snaps, and Griffon whirls around.

“Fuck you,” he spits, his arm whipping out.

She drops to the ground, blood appearing on her cheek, and her eyes close.

“I don’t think so,” Aria snarls, waving her hand.

I look at Archer as time starts.

He snarls and lifts his hand.

Black mist shoots from his palm, wrapping around Griffon’s throat. His eyes widen as Archer walks forward. The lights burst throughout the store, and the wind whips. Books fall from the shelves, and Aria pulls me away from the shelf behind us before it crashes to the floor. Rome and Mara follow Archer. Lace stands in shock, gripping the doorframe, and Mateo holds her close.

“What do you fear?” Archer asks silkily, his magic forcing Griffon against the wall beside the front door. “Tell me.”

Griffon shakes his head rapidly, his hands desperately trying to grab the strings of magic circling his throat.

“Holy shit,” Lace whispers, staring at Griffon.

Archer lifts him up the wall, his spells holding him, the ceiling inches away from his head.

“Shield,” Rome says, and the windows are blacked out.

“Silence.” I push out my spell, moving with Aria so we're away from any falling debris, and with a view of my soul bond. We don’t need the people walking down the street to hear.

“Come on, Griffon,” Archer hums, tilting his head. “Let me in. Tell me what you fear the most.” His eyes are filled with his magic, his expression dangerous. “Almost.” He pauses. “Nothing to say now? How does it feel? To be at the mercy of someone more powerful than you are.” He narrows his eyes. “Give me a little more.”

Griffon’s eyes flicker, his mouth opening, but he can’t talk.

“Girls.” Granny stands shakily and moves closer.

She needs to explain, but I hold out my arm, grateful she's alright. She rushes over, pressing against my side.

“There it is,” Archer says, smirking. Parts of his mist travel from Griffon’s neck to his forehead. They probe his skin, and I gasp as I watch them enter his skull. “How ironic.” He chuckles darkly. “You will live in your fear, in the water. Forever trying to reach clean air, gasping, choking, the water filling your lungs. In pain, and in fear.”

Griffon's eyes glaze over, staring at nothing. Just like Archer’s mom experienced in his dream. Life drains from his expression, blank and cold. The color of his skin fades, a faint blue coloring his face.

Archer drops his arm, and Griffon falls to the floor, slumping over, unmoving.

“Brother,” Rome says quietly.

“I’m fine,” he grits out, and looks at me.

He’s afraid. He doubts my reaction.