Page 33 of Kat Bethel

“Ah.” Her information was probably from her great-grandmother from a hundred years ago. The Rinah name had been a curse until the last couple of generations. “The dark witches that used to control the coven don’t have power anymore. In fact, I’ve spent most of my life cleaning their messes.”

My direct branch had single-handedly tucked the old birds away where they couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. We were still a morally gray bunch, but we weren’t creating nightmares.

She let out a sigh of relief.

“I guess you were right then.” Her smile grew bright again. “We were meant to meet.”

Her smile was contagious.

“You know I’ve never seen him latch onto someone the way he’s glued to you. Are you sure you know what you’ve gotten into?”

“I thought he was attached to you?”

“Not like this.” She shook her head. It soothed a piece of me that shouldn’t exist.

“I’m not sure of anything right now.”

She’d never know how true that was.

Chapter 13:

IwentintotheDark Entry Forest with my backpack full of supplies. As soon as I stepped inside, I could feel him breathing on my neck.

“You can’t get rid of me. Coming here won’t help you.”

I hmphed at his audacity. “The world doesn’t revolve around you. Who says you have anything to do with it?”

Besides, where there was a will, there was a way.

My shadow’s head tilted with curiosity. The whispers sounded up ahead, but grew silent when we were close. I walked briskly, refusing to get caught in here at night again.

Fuck that.

I went straight to the cemetery and cleared away a flat area of weeds and grass. In the process, I found a witch’s knot. Why was this here?

My eyes went to the tombstone I’d partially cleared the last time before all the lights were gone. He hovered over me, too close for comfort, watching me with an intensity that said to not to dare fuck up.

As I pulled weeds, I found countless witch’s ladders. The stone itself was blank, but it was right beside Abiel’s.

Like they usually did for spouses.

A few of them were draped over it, but the rest were flung about. Those kids. They disturbed his wife’s grave. That would explain the level of violence.

Why wasn’t her name carved into the slab?

Another unwanted pang of jealousy went through me. What if I’d had what she had when she was alive? Was he like this when he was alive?

I went over to one of the elder trees to gather sticks and branches that had fallen. I fashioned together a large stand.

“What are you doing, Dandelion?” he asked in my ear. I counted my lucky stars that he sounded curious and not like he might rip my trachea out the hard way.

I placed the stand over the stone and knotted a ladder onto one of the bars going over the stone. “Be at peace.”

He let out a shaking breath, and the air grew thinner. I hadn’t even realized how suffocating it was until he relaxed. One by one, I strung the ladders over the bars.

He didn’t touch or speak as I did. Like he knew if he distracted me, it would taint the ritual. I put every ladder I could find up. I even took the one from around my throat. “One more, just in case your heart hurts, too.”

Once my hand left the stand, arms wrapped around my center, pulling me into his chest. His head rested on my shoulder. Appreciation flooded over me like a wave.