Page 71

I grin. I’d like to have seen that.

Nikki sprawls out full length on the bench. “Anyway, back to the Thornbers’ grand origin story. The grandfather had a son. Niall. He could hold his own against your father to the extent that he was able to create an entire separate organisation. But he had one obsession. He’d marry the most powerful female practitioner he could find and sire the most powerful heir. He’d beat the Sadlers in the area they prided themselves on the most.”

I down the rest of my drink. It’s starting to get dark. The night is still warm—we’re in the Dome, after all—but it’s cooling.

“And he managed it,” I say. “My family still have the ascendency. But while Brendan’s a worthy Sadler heir, Gabriel-fucking-Thornber is the single most powerful practitioner I’ve ever come across.”

“Don’t call him that. Anyway, Niall cast his net wide. And eventually, he found Maeve. She fell in love. So did he. I only remember her as a kindly adult when I was a lonely child, but she was beautiful as hell. And dripping with magic, even more than you are. Even more than he is.”

“Is it true what people say about her?”

“That she was some sort of demon? Maybe. Or maybe she was just a spectacularly powerful practitioner. Niall wanted that wild, untamed magic for his heir. But as time went on, he was less sure he wanted that for his wife. Her own family crafted the bracelets. He made her wear them every day.”

I shivered, remembering the hour or two I’d worn Gabriel’s bracelets. I’d not wondered about their provenance.

“How long did she live without magic?” It had been about three hours for me. And that had felt like torture.

“Years on end, until she died when Gabriel was fourteen. She either wasted away through lack of magic or killed herself for the same reason. It’s hard to say whether father or son was more distraught.

“Niall wasn’t the nicest of people. He disapproved of me and my lack of magical heritage, for a start. He truly loved Maeve though, but that love expressed itself in twisted ways.”

I down the rest of my drink with a little shudder. I can’t get over the fact Gabriel put those same accursed bracelets on me, even briefly.

Nikki sits back up and looks me in the eye. “You should tread very carefully. Gabe has endless flings, male and female. Though he keeps it casual, he treats them well. And while it’s never gone beyond the platonic with me, he’s always been a great friend. He understands sex and friendship and camaraderie very well. But his views on love are skewed by his father’s example.

“He loves you, you know. It sounds melodramatic, but it’s true. But in his mind, love’s all bound up with submission and control and obsession. It’s a thin line between putting someone on a pedestal and putting them in a cage. Between longing for their powers and fearing them.”

“He doesn’t love me. I’ll accept obsession, at best. He’s met me about five times in total.”

“But he’s thought about you a lot more than that. In the years since you left town. And in the years before that, too.”

I grip the table. “How long has this love or obsession or whatever we’re calling it been going on? Why did he choose me for his bargain?”

Nikki tilts her head back and stares at the stars. “Ask him. I’ve already overstepped the mark. Just keep your guard up.”

“I should go.”

“No. We should get another round of drinks and move on to lighter topics. Are you aware of the concept of the Bechdel test?”

I laugh, though it’s a little forced. “Whether or not a film contains a scene of two named women having a conversation.”

“Indeed. But crucially, a conversation that isn’t about a man. Now, Gabe’s one of my favourite topics, too, but let’s draw a line under him for now. Let’s get drunk and talk politics, culture, celebrity gossip, anything and everything really.”

I grab two more beers. We talk about a book we both happen to have read. A trashy reality show we love to hate. A recent scandal involving a politician. And on and on through various random, entertaining topics until the early hours. Between her company and her warnings, I feel a lot better and a lot worse, all at the same time.

SEVENTEEN

I spend the week at The Windmill, focusing on the case, and avoiding my family and anyone associated with them as much as I can.

On Saturday though, I drag myself over to the family home to finally have the difficult conversation.

Only Mum’s there when I arrive. Dad and Liam are presumably out watching football. Maybe I’ve subconsciously chosen this time for just that reason, so I can do this one to one, rather than being outnumbered.

“It’s so good to see you, sweetheart,” Mum says, when she opens the door and finds me standing there. “We’ve all been worried about you. We’ve barely seen you since the Ritual. I hope it didn’t hit you too hard.”

I almost laugh. She makes it sound like it was merely a tiring evening.

Still, I go inside, sit down on a stool in the kitchen and accept my mum’s offering of a slice of freshly baked apple and cinnamon cake and a mug of milky tea—she doesn’t really do coffee.