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I hoped Hecate was half as smart as she believed herself, or else we would be in for a long stay.

Ainsley and Klaus were on their way out of the kitchen when I passed, and my expression must have betrayed my rather dark thoughts. Ainsley placed a hand on my arm. “What is it? I heard Mary had news.”

I gave them the brief rundown of our conversation as they followed me down the corridor. “We’ll be leaving as soon as possible,” I concluded, pulling a suitcase from my closet.

Funny thing, that. I’d brought it with me from St. Lucia, as Mary’s team had seen to it that we were clothed properly. We hadn’t exactly been granted the opportunity to pack on our way to the Caribbean. It was more like being herded into helicopters at gunpoint.

We owed Mary and her people our lives. Nothing less. The memory of those days came back fresh and clear when I touched the suitcase purchased on my behalf, that I might be able to bring home the other items purchased for me. I suddenly regretted any bitterness I’d harbored and made a silent resolution to sack up. An expression I’d once heard in a movie.

“Why would the dragons own something once owned by witches?” Klaus asked.

“Not just owned by them, but most likely written by them,” Ainsley added. When she furrowed her brow in concentration, she reminded me very much of her brother. Her face was, of course, more feminine than Alan’s, but they frowned exactly the same.

“Well, we’ve had a long history with the coven,” I reasoned as I tossed clothing into the case at random. If I needed anything, no doubt I could purchase it once I arrived. “And they once lived here, with us, so they might have taken something from the coven with them or even been gifted it to keep safe in their new home. It makes a good deal of sense.”

“How much do you recall from those days?” Ainsley asked.

“Less and less with each passing year,” I admitted with a shrug. “A thousand years will eventually begin to blur, I’d imagine. What about you?”

“The same,” she admitted. Klaus slid an arm around her waist, cueing her to lean against him. “I wish I remembered more. I feel like it might help us if I remembered what the coven gave them before they left.”

“There was likely very little explanation,” I reasoned. “I cannot recall the coven being forthcoming, ever. There have always been certain aspects of their lives which they’ve kept to themselves. Some of them are still very much like that, in fact.”

“Who are you talking about?” Klaus asked, raising an eyebrow.

I’d said too much. “Just an observation.” Naturally, I’d been thinking about Hecate and how frustrating it was that one who made a habit of nagging me happened to be the one I couldn’t understand.

Now, I had all the time in the world to try to understand her.

In Appalachia.

Lucky me.

4

“At least we don’t have to fly commercial,” I muttered as I jammed folded clothing into my suitcase. “We have that going for us. I don’t know if I could withstand being crammed in with a bunch of humans. I’ve seen photos of what some of them do on commercial flights. It’s a scandal.”

I was babbling, and I knew I was babbling. All for the sake of making the entire situation seem less dire than it appeared on the surface.

Traveling?

With the clan?

Exposing ourselves to the outside world?

With the clan?

Iris paced back and forth before the false windows. I appreciated the effort at making the rooms feel like they existed somewhere beyond the cave, with panels behind curtains which lit brighter and brighter as the day went on, as though natural sunlight made it so. The effect reversed itself in the evening, dimming until there was nothing but darkness.

But there was no mistaking the fact that we were underground, no matter how lovely the illusion.

“I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all.” Iris’s nostrils flared as her breathing got louder, harder. She was working herself up into a fine state—the lights even flickered once or twice as if to confirm this. I could almost taste the electrical charge in the room. If she’d had anything more than a fine layer of dark peach fuzz on top of her head, it would’ve been standing straight up.

“Breathe it out,” I warned her, referring to the lessons we’d learned as girls. Back when we were first coming into our powers. A funny thing, that. As if puberty weren’t bad enough, we had both raging hormones and only the vaguest control of our emerging abilities.

Learning to control our emotional outbursts before they resulted in catastrophe had been an early lesson, and a crucial one.

Iris threw me a look of irritation—to say the least—but did as I advised. Once she had, she appeared somewhat calmer. Her fists weren’t clenched nearly as tight as they had been.

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