Page 28 of Wicked Court

“Sort of. At—” I almost say Maverick’s funeral, but stop myself. “She gave me some family heirlooms a while ago, which I only just started looking at. I found a strange-looking necklace.”

Slowly, as if turning her head through molasses, she centers her attention on me. “Strange-looking how?”

Rather than describe it, I reach for my bag and pull out the necklace from the front-zip pocket.

The jagged ruby glints in the soft light of the room, the necklace creepy in its intricacy. The blackened metal setting is even more detailed up close, resembling vines twisting around each other, but the pieces seem like they should form a complete circle instead of a ruby lightning bolt.

Her eyes widen.

“This is ... old. Why did your grandmother give it to you?” she whispers, her voice trembling.

My heart races as I realize she may know something, but not in the way I imagined. Mom is always fearful, but this is the first time I’ve seen her keep a steady eye on the thing that terrifies her.

“She said it was hers when she was younger and that it was time for another Wraithwood female to keep it safe.”

Mom swallows hard and looks away, her knuckles turning white as she clutches both her hands together.

“Your grandmother never told me about that,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the ticking grandfather clock down the hall.

She doesn’t ask why she didn’t inherit it first. Mom isn’t exactly close with her mother-in-law, who cut her off after Dad died. We all know why, but no one talks about it: Gram blamed Mom for his death. I’ve never understood how someone could hate so much when they lost a child, too, but it seems the Wraithwood family only knows how to be cruel when at their lowest.

“Do you recognize it?” I ask softly.

She reluctantly untangles her fingers and takes the necklace from me to inspect it under the dusty lamp by her nightstand.

“I do...” she trails off, carefully cleaning off the dirt and grime before studying it again. Her fingers trace the strange design etched into the metalwork that holds the ruby in its setting.

She pauses and looks up at me, her eyes wide with recognition this time. “This is Anderton work.”

“Anderton?” My mind splays out the information with the speed of falling cards. “Like Sarah Anderton? The accused witch of Titan Falls?”

The Anderton witch legend is the source of Titan Falls’s booming economy. It’s responsible for all party themes, tourism, and the heavy superstition flowing through town. Initially known as the town healer, Sarah achieved notoriety when people unearthed she assisted nobles in poisoning their enemies, including their husbands and wives. Once discovered, the nobles were so concerned Sarah would publicly name her clients that they branded her a witch. People assume they included her young, disfigured teenage daughter in the torture and death, even though no one ever found the daughter's body, and there are no records that mention her.

“It’s only rumors, Elara,” Mom says, reading my thoughts on my face and sharing in my lack of enthusiasm for real-life magic. “Your great-great-great-grandmother was killed for being a witch, but really, she’s just a tragic figure who died too soon.”

The truth-bomb takes a second to blow my head wide open. “Wait—what?”

Learning about a secret, ruthless society operating beneath Titan Falls University is one thing. But my recluse mother casually mentioning my blood relation to a famous witch makes me want to become an expert in crafting her booby-traps.

Is this why the guys are calling me a witch? Something to do with the… “Oh, fuck.”

“Language, sweetie,” Mom says, but there’s no force behind it.

“The treasure,” I breathe out. “There were reports that Sarah Anderton had left a hidden treasure of gold and jewels from her pay-offs. It’s never been found. ”

“Allegedly.”

Mom shrugs as if the treasure is the myth many people think it is.

“Is this part of it? This giant, weirdly shaped ruby? How much is something like this worth?”

“Millions, at least,” Mom casually answers as if she hasn’t just upended my entire knowledge of my entire family and told me I’ve been carrying a multi-million dollar necklace in my backpack.

“And Gram has just held onto it? Why? And who am I a descendant of? The daughter that has no name? The one that disappeared from all records?”

My stomach drops like I’ve been pushed off a cliff. Does the Cimmerian Court want Sarah’s hidden treasure? Was Gram protecting it? Fuck, am I?

And why did no one decide that it was important to tell me the Wraithwoods are part of Sarah Anderton’s ancestors?

---