Page 118 of A Resistance of Witches

“I believe someday you will look back on this moment, and see that I had my reasons,” she said softly.

She turned her back and walked away, following Sybil into the hallway. She waited until they were outside, then fell, sobbing, into Sybil’s arms. Sybil shushed her gently and stroked her hair.

“Oh, my darling,” she whispered. “I’m so proud of you.”

Thirty-Four

The tunnels under the castle grew colder as Henry and Rebecca ran, as if they were descending deeper and deeper into the earth. The air was damp, and in the pitch black Henry saw nothing except the occasional glimpse of the gray woman drifting through the tunnel ahead of them, slipping in and out of view.

When they finally emerged, the light felt so bright it burned Henry’s eyes, even though the sky was overcast, the sun hanging low. The air smelled crisp and green, like Christmas trees, and the freezing cold bite of it was dizzying after so long spent underground. He squinted and caught a glimpse of gray silhouette, lingering just at the edge of a thick forest.

“This way.” His legs felt heavy from hunger and lack of use, but he forced himself forward.

“What about Lydia?”

Henry looked back at the looming castle, stark white against the dusky sky. He knew Lydia was inside. He wanted to go to her, a need as strong as hunger, deep in his belly. Then he turned and locked eyes withthe gray woman. She was reaching out to him, beckoning to him with an urgency so palpable, he could almost hear her voice inside his head.

You can’t save her if you’re dead.

“They’ll be looking for us. We’ll go back for her, but right now we need to hide. Come on.”

They ran for the tree line, letting the forest swallow them up until they could no longer see the castle through the spruce trees.

“Where is she? Your ghost?” Rebecca was doubled over, holding a stitch in her side.

“I don’t know.”

The gray woman had been ahead of them the whole time, guiding them out of the tunnels, beckoning them into the forest, but now, as Henry strained his eyes, she was nowhere to be seen.

Rebecca settled against the trunk of a tree. Her skin and clothes were dirty, her lips pale, and there were hollows in her cheeks where there hadn’t been any before.

“Do you believe what she said?” Rebecca asked. “The witch?”

“About Lydia joining them, you mean?”

Rebecca nodded.

Henry didn’t even have to wonder. He’d been inside Lydia’s head. He’d felt her passion, her unbreakable will. He knew she would sooner die. “No.”

Rebecca exhaled slowly. She hung her head. “What if they decide to—”

“They won’t.” Henry shook his head, banishing the thought. “They need her. They can’t hurt her.”

Rebecca covered her face with her hands, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. Her shoulders began to shake, and for a moment, Henry thought she must be crying. But then a hysterical sort of wheezing began to emanate from her chest.

“Rebecca?”

She laughed and laughed, but even from where he stood, Henry could see there was no mirth in it. Tears gathered in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, and still she laughed.

“I’m always running,” she said, gasping. She looked at him and wiped the tears away with her palm. The laughter stopped in her throat like it had been shot dead. “I’m a fucking coward.”

Henry nearly reached out and touched her shoulder, but the look in her eyes stopped him. “Are you kidding? You’re fearless. You gunned down half a dozen Gestapo like it was nothing. You killed awitch. Rebecca, you’re still here because—”

“I’m here because I ran.”

Birds sang to each other overhead. A gentle breeze glided through the spruce trees, making the needles fall around them like rain.

“What are you talking about?”

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