Chapter 3

"Not tonight."

Dorene's voice cut through the dark, flat and cold.

"She hired a witch. The woman shows up tomorrow and there's no client? Independent witches file reports, Brennan. They don't work territories where clients vanish."

Brennan tried to argue. She shut him down.

"Everyone stays in the chamber tomorrow. Not a sound. I lock the ward-door from outside and keep the key. Once the witch leaves, we deal with her. Quietly."

Footsteps went down the stairs. The ward-door opened and closed. The lock turned.

I lay in the dark with Brennan's smell still on my pillow and waited for my hands to stop shaking.

At 4:30 AM, I picked up my phone and sent one more message to the witch.

Triple your fee. Strongest wards you have. I want that chamber sealed so nothing gets in or out.

The reply came back in under a minute.

I'll be there by ten.

I didn't sleep.

The next morning, I came downstairs rubbing my eyes.

"Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?"

Dorene stood at the counter with breakfast and that careful smile.

"Like the dead." I stretched. "Didn't even dream."

Something eased behind her eyes. Relief she didn't bother hiding.

"Sweetheart, I need to ask—a supplier two territories over just got a fresh shipment of silverroot. If I don't pick it up today, it'll sell out. I'll be back by morning."

Silverroot. She knew exactly which herbs my parents chased across the continent. A year of studying my family, and she never once studied me.

I let my face fall. Just enough. "Promise you'll be back?"

"First light."

On her way out, she stopped in the basement hallway. I heard the ward-door lock click. She pocketed the key.

Locking her family in. Making sure I didn't wander down there while she was gone.

I watched her drive off. Then I sat on the front step and counted down the minutes.

Seren Whitfield showed up at ten sharp—an independent witch, eighteen years in the trade. No pack ties. No small talk. She walked through my front door with a scanner crystal in one hand and a bag of runestones in the other.

"You're the Calloway girl. The late bloomer."

"That's me."

"Show me the chamber."

The ward-door was locked. Seren pressed her palm flat against it and murmured something. The lock clicked open.

She walked the room slowly. Dust, crates, dead air.

"My parents built this when I was sixteen," I said. "I never used it. I'd given up on my wolf." I kept my voice steady. "But they're at the Ashmoor auction right now, bidding on moonpetal for me. Again. I want them to come home and see this room alive. I want to finally try."

Seren held up the crystal and swept it wall to wall.

"Standard check first. If anything active is down here, sealing it in with awakening wards would be—" She made a short gesture. "Ugly."

The crystal glowed a flat, even blue.

"Clean. Dust, crates, your parents' old wards half-decayed." She lowered it. "Full seal?"

"The ritual needs a pure energy field. No one in or out until I'm ready."

"Smart. Contaminated chambers misfire." She set down her bag. "Top grade, triple fee. Let's go."

Three and a half hours later, the ward-door was gone. In its place, a solid wall of interlocking runes pulsed blue-white from floor to ceiling. No handle. No keyhole. No seam. The basement windows were sealed the same way.

Seren packed up, collected her payment, and left without ceremony.

I stood alone in front of that glowing wall and laughed. It started as a breath that came out wrong, and then I couldn't stop. My ribs ached. Tears ran down my face. I had to grab the railing to stay upright.

The chamber my parents built out of love was finally doing something for me.

I poured myself a glass of wine, sat on the couch, and didn't go to bed.

Dorene came back early the next morning with a bag of herbs and her usual warm smile.

"Sweetheart! Up so early." She headed for the kitchen—same route she always took, right past the corner where the ward-door used to be. "By the way, how did the witch do? Everything go well?"

I set down my glass.

"See for yourself."

Dorene turned the corner.

The herb bag hit the floor. Every drop of color left her face.