Page 94 of Eyes of the Grave

Viktor hissed, with a jerk of his hand. “Stand there and behave.”

I flinched and hung my head. It was then that I noticed Astrid had let go of my hand and wandered a few steps away. She had her nose pressed to a display case.

“Not to sound crass,” the white-haired man said, his eyes darting between my sister and I. “But which one was intended for my care? My wife will be home soon, and she’s had a rough couple of days.”

Viktor pointed. “Astrid will bring her great comfort.”

“And what of the other. Ellaria would love—”

“Her fate is not your concern. If you have any problems, please don’t forget to use the phone number I provided in the envelope. Do not attempt to contact me directly.” Viktor took my hand again. “I do hope your wife feels better soon.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

With another nod, my uncle started for the door. He stopped short when I wouldn’t move. Astrid had no idea we were leaving. I couldn’t just walk away. Poppet was already gone, she’d fought until he’d stopped her, but Astrid… she was different. She would never understand.

“Rebekah, let’s go,” Viktor said.

“Can…can I say goodbye?” I asked, looking up at him.

Viktor’s jaw flexed, and he stooped in front of me. “Listen. I know it’s hard, but your sisters are going to have better lives. They will be safe and cared for. Astrid’s new family is more than capable of taking care of her.”

“But…but…they’re my sisters,” I whimpered, trying not to cry. I failed. Tears blurred my vision and sobs rattled through my chest.

“It’s better this way,” he said, pulling me in for a hug. I looped my arms around his neck, and he rubbed his hand over my back. “I need you to trust me.”

With a gasp, I opened my eyes, back inside the cabin. In the midst of Poppet’s spell, I’d fallen to the floor again. My knees ached from hitting the ground and blood had dried on my forehead.

My sister knelt opposite me, blood dripping from her nose. Her eyes met mine and I tensed. She looked like a feral cat ready to attack.

“Do you remember now? Do you remember how he sold me?” She panted.

“Poppy, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” I shifted onto my knees as a sharp pain cracked through my chest. Everything she’d said was true. She was my sister. She was my sister and I’d just let him send her away. We were triplets. She was part of my soul, and I’d let her go. But that didn’t change a single thing she’d done since she’d come back into my life. She’d killed Viktor…Nadia…Ingrid…and she’d almost forcedmeto kill Jackson. I couldn’t forgive that. I couldn’t just let that go.

Poppet ran a hand through her hair. “That day in the jewelry shop was the first thing I remembered. I can still feel his finger tracing that spell on my forehead. It locked me inside my own body. I couldn’t fight, I couldn’t scream. All I could do was watch as you let her take me away. You didn’t cry. You didn’t care. You just stood there. He sold your sisters, and you did nothing. Every day of the last five years that memory has blazed across my mind. How could you just stand there?”

“What could I do? We were six years old!” I snapped. My fall had carried me closer to the loose floorboard, and from the way it wiggled under my touch, I could tell the impact of my body had loosened it further. Careful to pivot myself, I slipped my fingers beneath it and took a deep breath. “He would have silenced me the same way he silenced you. Or he would’ve done worse.”

“You could’ve tried.”

Watching her closely, I saw the anger boiling beneath her exhaustion. “I’m sorry, Poppet. But I can’t change the past. I’m not that kind of witch.”

She sauntered forward. “I don’t want you to change the past. I want you to—"

In one swift move, I pulled the floorboard free from its mooring and swung it up at Poppet’s face. The circle’s power broke, and my hand swung right through its shattered barrier. The wood smacked into the underside of her chin. Poppet’s head snapped sideways, her body pivoted, and I brought my right foot down on the outside of her knee. The bone snapped audibly, and a scream ripped through her throat.

The moment Poppet fell, I took off running. Part of me felt bad for doing it, she was my sister after all, but I couldn’t just stand there and let her keep me in a cage. I needed help.

Darting into the dining room, I leapt through the hole I’d left in the kitchen wall, and out the back door. My feet slipped on the wet grass, but I managed to stay upright, sprinting for the trees.

Poppet may have been my sister, but she was chaotic, and she’d murdered two innocent witches. She was dangerous. I had to run.

Her biggest mistake was bringing me to the cabin. She could have taken me anywhere from the market. She could’ve carried me to the far reaches of the fae home world, and no one would have been the wiser. But she didn’t. She’d picked nostalgia.

Our cabin was less than five miles from the estate. It shared the same woods as the wolves patrolling the Devereaux property: Jackson’s pack. If I ran the right way, with a little bit of luck, I’d find help in no time.

“Come on, come on, come on,” I chanted under my breath. Yelling would only help Poppet find me. I didn’t need to yell. If the wolves were nearby, they’d smell me. Jackson had always boasted that he could smell the change in my moods. If he could smell when I was angry, then he and his fellow wolves could certainly smell when I was terrified.

“Rebekah!” Poppet’s voice echoed off the trees in the distance. “You can’t run forever!”

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