Page 82 of Charmed

“Hell no. She—”

“You’re down four minions, asshole.” Fiona tsked. “You’re no match for us. Haven’t we proven that by now?”

A sly smile curved the Ministers lips, and dread sank so heavy in Riley that it manifested as pain. Something wasn’t right. The whole scenario. The asshole had been ahead in the destiny game from day one, and it seemed no matter how hard they’d planned, he was still upping them.

“I got a bad feeling,” Riley muttered.

“Ditto.” Ceara looked at him, terror and vulnerability in her eyes.

The Minister glanced to his right, in the vicinity of the rock wall. “Now.”

Fiona visibly braced, holding her palms in front of her and bending in a crouch while Riley nearly made a flying leap out of the cave.

“Not yet.”

From out of the shadows, a man emerged, a blonde female by his side. They strode toward the Minister, but her steps appeared unsure. As if she was being forced. The dude had to be a hunter. He wore jeans with a black tee, and though Riley couldn’t fully make it out from his location, there was a tattoo on the guy’s forearm that was, no doubt, a Brotherhood dagger. The woman, though. Odd. It looked like she had on…a peasant gown. Ankle-length, brown, with loose sleeves and ties at the breasts.

“Goddess, no. It cannot be.”

Shock slackened Fiona’s jaw and rounded her eyes. “Hope?”

Riley stiffened, his limbs locked. What in the actual hell? “Hope,” he dully mimicked. Things just got significantly more fucked up. “As in, Celeste’s daughter who died over two centuries ago?”

Kaida clutched her shirt by the collar in both trembling hands, breaths soughing. “How? How is this possible?”

Palm on her forehead, Ceara exhaled an uneven sigh. “I’m not getting anything. Not from her. No emotions or intuition. Not a thing. It’s like she’s…”

Dead. It was as if she was dead, thus producing zero emotional output. Which, truly, she was supposed to be deceased. Long, long ago.

Brady and Tristan exchanged worried glances.

The Minister held out his hand to the hunter. “Give it to me.”

And then shit went from bad to worse.

They’d all been so focused on the woman, they hadn’t noticed what the hunter had under his arm. The oxygen in Riley’s lungs evaporated. Time stalled to a dizzying, horrifying slow-motion.

A box. The box. What he and Fiona had been completing tasks to retrieve. The one Celeste had hidden in another plane in the witches’ stone cottage.

Brady made a sound of duress. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

“That’s why he retrieved Hope from the In Between place.” Ceara covered her mouth. “He needed a Galloway to get inside the cottage.”

Years ago, Mara had bespelled the cottage to conceal it from bystanders and to stop it from deteriorating in the elements. Only Galloways could see or step inside, unless one was invited.

Tristan’s jaw clenched. “How did he bring her back, though?”

“I don’t…” Ceara shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Kaida lowered her arms, methodically glancing at each of them. “The witching blade. It has to be. Not only can he steal their powers when he slays them, but because he’s under the immortality spell, he can bring them back when he temporarily dies.”

On the beach, Hope sobbed. “I’m so very sorry, blood of my blood.” She wrung her hands together in front of her, speaking to Fiona. “I had no choice. He made me.”

“I understand. It’s not your fault.” A gutting, screeching wail rose from Fiona. Extending her arm, she conjured wind and flung the fifth and last hunter out to sea. Huffing, she glared at the Minister, baring teeth. “That is mine.”

“Is it?” He shrugged, box in his extended palm.

She lifted her arms, but he pointed the witching blade at her.

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