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  Wynter nearly collapsed in shock and joy, praying that the girl was real and not an illusion of her weakened mind, or some wicked trick of Holmes’s. He had forced so many images into her mind over the months that she was no longer sure of her own vision and what was real.

  Be real, be real.

  “Wynter?” the girl called again, shifting at the window, crouching lower.

  Wynter hurried forward, hands clawing along the wall. “I’m here,” she answered, her voice barely loud enough for her own ears to hear. She cleared her throat, found the strength to call louder, “I’m here!”

  Relief fluttered briefly across the girl’s lovely face and was quickly replaced with concern. “Wynter, we’re going to get you out. Where are you? I can’t see you.”

  Wynter pushed away from the wall and stumbled into the thin column of light streaming in through the window, a dismal spotlight. She didn’t miss the look of distress on the girl’s face, and didn’t blame her for it; Wynter’s appearance was certainly repugnant. One bucket of water a week could only do so much. Her dress was in tatters, stiff with dirt, her hair in clumps, her skin deathly pale where it was not caked in dirt. And she stood slumping forward, barely able to stand. A beaten, neglected animal.

  The girl’s eyes grew watery and pinched with concern. She swallowed several times before speaking again. “Don’t worry, we’re here. Ruby is going to help us get you out, but we have to hurry.”

  Out? Get out? But how? It would take great magic to break through Holmes’s spells and her chains. Of course, they had obviously already broken through the outer spells to see and talk to her. Hope trilled in Wynter’s heart.

  The girl turned her head and looked upwards, speaking. A pair of men’s boots appeared in the window and then two large, strong hands reached down as if from the heavens to grip the bottom of the window. After considerable effort, the window gave and moved upwards, relenting its stuck position just enough for a body to pass through.

  Wynter gasped in awe and relief, gripping her skirt in anticipation.

  Next, assisted by the heavenly, strong hands, the girl was lowered into the basement. With her came the smell of freedom, fresh fall rain, and strong, but untapped magic. Without hesitation, and to Wynter’s great surprise, the girl rushed over and threw her arms around her. Despite her filth and, no doubt, stench, the girl held her tightly with warm, genuine affection. Instantly, Wynter collapsed against the girl’s young, stalwart body, floods of tears pulsing out of her. It was like being born again, coming out of the dark into the open, warm arms of love. The magic came off the young woman in waves and Wynter drank it in like ambrosia, feeling a bit of strength return to her.

  A deep voice from the window broke their embrace. The girl pulled back and looked to the window, still firmly holding Wynter’s arms. A handsome face with a set of dark eyes, framed by golden curls, spoke, “We need to hurry, Willa.”

  Willa.

  Willa looked around the room, searching for something. Finally, her gaze locked on a spot near the stairs. “What now, Ruby?”

  Wynter looked at the stairs and didn’t see a soul. She looked at Willa and then back.

  A ghost!

  The only way this girl could see a ghost was if she had the Gift of Dreams with the Power of Spirits. A rare gift, and even rarer ability. A connection struggled to form in Wynter’s mind. A ghost. Ruby. A ghost named Ruby. Oh! It could be only one woman, one witch: the great Ruby Plate, the luminary of the last Light Covenant. Wynter marveled, gaping at the empty spot near the bottom of the steps.

  She had often sensed a spirit around the house. It had tried to communicate with her several times, but Holmes was always quick to interfere. Wynter would never have guessed it was Ruby Plate, but found she was not surprised.

  Wynter looked at Willa. Ruby’s spirit had a proxy, someone free from Dark spells, someone with the Power. Ruby could add her own magic to Willa’s while also directing the girl’s strength. That was how they’d broken the spell hiding Wynter from the outside world.

  Willa nodded, listening to the ghost. Her face drained of color and she bit her lower lip. Finally, with worried eyes, she turned to Wynter. “Ruby says we must channel all of our powers to break the enchantments on your chains. They are very strong.”

  “I know,” Wynter whispered. This girl knows nothing of her powers, of who she really is. And this kind of magic could overwhelm her. She said a quiet chant of strength—for all of them.

  “Simon,” Willa called and a second later the man slid down through the window. He was a tall, powerful creature with the bulk of well used muscles, the magic pulsing off him as strong as Willa’s. He smiled hesitantly at Wynter and took Willa’s outstretched hand.

  “Ruby will help me guide my . . . umm . . . magic, she says,” Willa explained uncomfortably. Simon’s eyes grew wide in protest. Willa shook her head. “It’s okay. It’s the only way. Wynter’s magic is so weak and you need to be strong to carry us out—if it comes to that. And besides, it wasn’t that bad. I already feel back to normal, mostly.” Willa half-smiled and Simon nodded, his brow furrowed, his reticent eyes scanning the room.

  Willa turned her head and listened for final instructions from the ghost. With a deep sigh, she looked at Wynter, apprehension brimming out of her body. “I can’t promise this will work. Simon and I have no idea what this is all about, but I promise we will do our best.”

  Wynter only nodded, a knot of emotion in her throat. It would work—it would work.

  Simon touched Willa’s shoulder. “Wait. Let me see if I can heal her first. If she’s better, she can help more.”

  Willa blinked at him and then looked to Ruby for approval, after which she nodded vigorously and kept her wide, blinking eyes on Simon. Wynter’s jaw dropped in complete astonishment.

  A healer! How is this possible?

  The young man stepped in front of her, his kind face rimmed with nerves. “Give me your hands, Wynter.”

  Wynter raised her damaged, torn hands and placed them in his large, warm ones. He closed his eyes. The extraordinary magic inside him moved into her fingertips and palms; it felt like being dipped in a hot spring. A curious, delightful sensation traveled up her arms and spread through her whole body. Like a warm summer breeze, like a fleece blanket in winter.

  Wynter watched with awe as the jagged edges of her most recent wound drained of redness, flattened out and knitted itself back together, leaving behind only a thin line. The fever left her body, her limbs and organs drank in the nourishment they had long lacked.

  Within a few short minutes, her body was restored. The outside dirt remained, but now somehow looked less tragic.

  Simon exhaled, released her hands and opened his eyes to Wynter’s grateful smile and flowing tears. As Wynter gazed down at her arms, she vaguely heard Willa step next to Simon and quietly said, “I didn’t realize you could heal so much damage. That’s . . . incredible.”

  How did he do that? Wynter wondered as she flexed her hands. She raised her head and was about to give her copious thanks when the energy of magic suddenly surged back into her soul, a blast of voltage so strong she nearly toppled backwards. For a brief, wonderful moment she was aware of every tree, every blade of grass, every living creature close to the house. She sensed their life forces, their magic, each one rushing over her, a waterfall of nature’s electricity.

  Simon reached out a hand to steady her. She surprised everyone when she started laughing. “Oh, Simon. I can never thank you enough. Not only do I have my health back, I have my magic back. No words can truly describe how wonderful this feels.”

  The young couple beamed at her until Willa flinched and glanced sideways. “We’ve got to hurry. Holmes could be back any second. We are supposed to join hands.”

  The three clasped hands in a small, intimate circle. Wynter knew breaking the chains would be no problem now that she was healed. Willa looked to the side and then down at her arm. She hissed in pain as Ruby began channeling her power
in and through the girl.

  “Thank you, dear Ruby,” Wynter said to the ghost she couldn’t see, but knew was there. “I can guide us through the spell. The four of us should have more than enough magic to get the job done.” She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes and called to the magic. “Focus your mind on the chains, on breaking them. Picture them crumbling, both the Dark magic and the metal. Make the image as strong and real as you can.” A short breath. “Push all your energy to the task.” Another breath.

  Heat suddenly swirled around them, the air churning with magic, a feeling Wynter had sorely missed.

  “Now, repeat this spell with me: Heavy chains that lock and bind, keeping good where none can find. Mighty Earth, hear our plea. Break the Dark and set Light free.” Wynter repeated the spell again, and on the third time Simon and Willa hesitantly joined in, their eyes squeezed shut. Their joined hands quivered and sweated.

  On the fourth chant, the chains began to tremble and shake. “Again,” Wynter whispered, her heart racing, her blood pulsing furiously. The dank basement air was now completely charged with heat and energy, unsettled, like a sea in a storm.

  Heavy chains that lock and bind, keeping good where none can find. Mighty Earth, hear our plea. Break the Dark and set Light free.

  A high-pitched screeching noise suddenly assaulted the air as the metal gave way and the Dark magic was defeated. For a moment, Wynter dared not look down, the muscle memory of the chains still feeding her a false signal. Slowly, she dropped her chin and opened her eyes. The metal lay in shards around her bare feet. A white line of less dirty skin winked up at her from both ankles.

  Free. Sun and moon, I am free!

  Testing her new freedom, Wynter took a few hesitant steps away, her legs as light as air. A quiet giggle bubbled up from her chest, turning into loud, unrestrained guffaws, verging on sobs. She trailed her fingers over both raw ankles, the skin wrinkled, calloused and cool.

  I’m free!

  In her blissful celebration, Wynter almost failed to notice the two young people on their knees, sucking air and shuddering. “Oh, my poor dears, I’m sorry. Are you all right? That was powerful magic, especially for ones unaccustomed to it. Your strength will return in a few—”

  Bang.

  Above them a door slammed shut, followed by the heavy thud of footsteps. All heads snapped upwards.

  Wynter felt herself shrinking back, her new strength drowning in fear. To be caught now when she was so close to freedom . . . She couldn’t survive it. Shivers of fear shook her limbs. Like a frightened animal, she searched frantically around the room for a place to hide from her predator.

  A steady, warm hand.

  Wynter looked over into Willa’s shining eyes. “Wynter, come on. Out the window. Fast!” Willa pulled her toward the window where Simon was already scrambling up and out. Wynter’s fear gave way; she was not alone. She was free and she was whole. She was no longer that man’s cowering prisoner, her mind no longer his twisted playground.

  Simon reached back in to pull Willa up, but she pushed Wynter forward. “Go first,” she hissed. Wynter quickly muttered a spell to block Holmes’s access to the basement. It wouldn’t stop him for long, but it would buy them some time.

  Wynter thrust up her hands. Simon pulled her out as easily as a scrap of paper. He set her on the grass and turned back for Willa. Wynter breathed in her first breath of fresh air, so much air. The wind found her first, dancing all around her, lifting her hair in a fond hello. The ground tried to rise up around her and wrap her in its arms. In response she bent and caressed the dead grass. In the backyard the willow tree shook its branches in celebration and the resident owl hooted loudly.

  Hello, my friends!

  “Wynter!” Simon yelled, his voice frantic. Lost in her reprieve once again, she had completely missed Holmes charging into the basement, bellowing angry spells. At her feet Simon was straining to hold on to Willa’s arms while she screamed in fear and pain. Holmes held her with a spell, a strong one, trying to pull her back into the prison.

  “No,” Wynter whispered and surged into action. She lifted her right hand and thrust it forward, sending magic racing through the air. Holmes’s spell cracked and Willa was free. Simon fell backward on the grass with Willa safely in his arms.

  Wynter lifted her hand again, this time to the sky. The wind obeyed her call and came rushing down from the clouds in one long tunnel. It pummeled its way into the basement and knocked Holmes backward, slamming his body against the basement wall with easy vehemence. Wynter swept her hand in front of the window and thick, green vines broke out of the dirt, crawling outward, slithering inside the window, down the walls and across the floor to Holmes’s unconscious body. In seconds he was wrapped, arms at his side, in a tight jacket of vines.

  “That won’t hold him for long. We must go,” Wynter breathed and turned to leave, but then stopped. She squatted and cocked her head to the side to look at Holmes’s slack face. Thrilling triumph moved through her. But next to her triumph stood her hatred for the man who had stolen the last five months of her life and tried to break her mind. That hatred boiled inside her.

  She moved closer to the window.

  “Wynter?” Willa breathed.

  Wynter held all life sacred; it was against her nature to hurt or kill. To kill was to touch Darkness. But it was also against her nature not to do what was best for her covens and the magic. And how could she move on with life knowing Holmes was still alive?

  Willa and Simon stood next to her, one on each side, their breaths short and labored, their energy scattered and confused. Wynter smiled at them both and then sent a simple command to the vines with a flick of her wrist. With comfortable pleasure she watched as they moved upward, creeping toward Holmes’s mouth. His eyes flashed open the instant the plant moved down his throat, seeking his heart. His body flopped and fought, like a hooked fish, before going still and quiet.

  Wynter raised one eyebrow and stood, turning away. Willa touched her arm hesitantly and asked, “Who are you?”

  Wynter smiled. “Oh, sweetie, I’m the same as you. I’m a witch.”

  Chapter 13

  New Moon

  Present Day, October

  Ruby watched as Willa, Simon, and Wynter walked away with hurried steps. She had offered them a quick goodbye and sent Willa away with one last instruction. “Listen to Wynter, she will help you get your answers.”

  The ghost glanced down through the basement window at Holmes’s lifeless, but still warm body wrapped in murderous vines. Ruby was proud of Wynter. It was never easy to take a life, but sometimes it was necessary. Wynter was obviously a great and wise witch; Ruby wished she could know her more.

  Ruby prayed that Wynter, Willa, and Simon would be safe. Holmes didn’t work alone. Others would pursue his purposes with renewed vigor. There was still much danger in their future. The pieces of conversations that Ruby had overheard and the way Holmes acted pointed to the involvement of many Dark witches with one great purpose. She suspected and feared that Wynter’s imprisonment was connected to a terrible sequence of events set in motion long ago. Something that had started with her poor, sweet Amelia. Something she had also been powerless to stop.

  Poor Amelia. I’m sorry I left you so soon.

  Ruby watched as Simon took Willa’s hand just before they turned the corner. She smiled at the simple tenderness of the gesture and rubbed absently at her own empty, quiescent hands.

  Charles.

  How she missed the soft, gentle man beneath the rugged handsomeness. Her memories of days working by his side and nights in his arms, powerful passion flowing from his touch, were as vivid as if they had just happened. Such memories comforted and plagued her, a torturous reminder of her spirit’s limbo.

  Overwhelming weariness filled her. She’d finally helped Wynter, and Holmes was dead—there was nothing left to do. With a sorrowful glance at her house, Ruby retreated to the willow tree and curled up on the ground at the base of the trunk. She was tir
ed from channeling her magic through Willa and only wanted to close her eyes.

  “Hello, Ruby Plate.”

  Ruby jerked around.

  Charles!

  In front of her was the most amazing sight—her husband, tall, handsome and dressed in his favorite hand-made flannel shirt, work pants, and scuffed boots, smiling a devilish grin. His body pulsed with a brilliant, fiery light.

  “Is that truly you, Charles Plate?”

  He chuckled, the sound bouncing in the air around her. “Yes, my love. I’ve come for you at last. Your time here is done.”

  Ruby rushed forward into his open arms, tears soaking her shimmering face. His body was warm, as warm as the fire that once burned in their hearth. The smell of open fields and clean water drifted off his body. He kissed her hair and then her lips, warmth pouring into her long-cold soul.

  “At last,” she whispered.

  In her flood of relief and joy Ruby barely noticed the odd tugging sensation that began in her belly, gained momentum, and then, in a flash of light, pulled the couple away, leaving the willow alone in its melancholy yard.

  Willa, Simon, and Wynter hurried back to Willa’s house, taking the fastest route directly through the main streets. Willa wondered how late it was. It felt like days since she left the diner, but she guessed it was probably only after midnight. Would her parents be home? She winced. What would she say to them?

  When she saw their car in the driveway, Willa caught Simon’s eyes, knowing he’d sense what she was worried about. He shrugged, shook his head. She inhaled and tried to prepare herself.

  “This way,” she said to Wynter and led the way to the backdoor.

  When the three of them, wet, muddy and exhausted, stepped into the kitchen, her parents were waiting, sipping tea at the table.

  “Willa!” her mom yelled leaping up and pulling Willa into a hard hug. “We’ve been so worried. We got home and found your stuff abandoned on the floor, including your phone. We thought something had happened. . . .” Sarah’s voice trailed off when she noticed Wynter. Her jaw dropped and eyes flashed wide at the awful sight of the stranger now in her kitchen. Willa couldn’t blame her for the reaction. What must her mom be thinking? Her dad, too, was now standing, blinking at Wynter.