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“I discovered a half dead demon inside, the most piteous thing you can imagine, curled up in a corner. Fed him some of my energy, hoping to discover what insights he might have on this new existence. I didn’t have a plan then, at least, I don’t think so. I was mostly too stunned to think at all.

“But I knew I’d need allies, and he was the only one who stayed.”

“Allies for what? Morgan, it’s over—”

“It isn’t over! It will be over when the Circle has paid for the lives they stole, the pain they caused. When my coven—and yours—is avenged. When the spell the Great Mothers cast is used against our real enemies, then talk to me about over!”

Chapter Thirty-Five

“That is what you’re planning?” Gillian whispered, staring at Morgan. “To misdirect the spell?”

“Not misdirect,” the ghost said. “Correct. Think of it; the greatest enchantment in memory, perhaps in millennia, involving the magic of tens of thousands of us—it was perfect. We merely chose the wrong target.”

Gillian stared at the one-time witch, her expression frozen in shock, as well it might be if Kit understood Morgan’s meaning. But the ghost didn’t appear to notice. Instead, her eyes brightened to the point that they rivalled the wizard’s lantern, and shed a strange, blue haze onto the surrounding air.

“I know,” she said, nodding. “It struck me much the same way, when I first saw it. I had spent far too long lost in self-pity, in mourning the life I should have had—that all of us should have had!

“But then I realized the truth—that the fight wasn’t over. I had been telling myself what I said to you earlier, that this was where everything began. But it was more like the beginning of the end. The true start of it all was that night on the cliffs.

“The Great Mothers made the wrong decision and it cost us everything. There was no coming back after that. Too many were dead; too much was lost.

“But what if I could go back? I started to wonder that, more and more. What if I could change the outcome? What if it was the Circle that died instead—”

“Do you hear yourself?” Gillian asked, finding her voice. “This is madness!”

“No!” the blue eyes flashed. “Madness is giving up. Madness is deciding that we have no hope, no future. Madness is letting them win.”

“The Great Mothers made a sacrifice!” Gillian said, her voice roughening. “The Circle didn’t win—”

“Exactly!” the ghost nodded vigorously. “They couldn’t beat us in the field; they had to use a cowardly sneak attack for that. But we can put it right—”

“How? By doing it to them first?”

“Yes! Now that we know what they’ve planned—”

“And the Armada? The Mothers made a choice, Morgan—”

“And they’re dead for it!” the ghost said furiously. “Almost all of us are dead! I didn’t choose to be a sacrifice; neither did my people! Neither did you! And we don’t have to be!”

“You would overturn their decision, then.”

“I would reclaim what is ours!”

Gillian looked conflicted, as well she might, considering that she had been arguing the other side not long ago with Rilda. But something appeared to have changed. Because her face finally settled on an emotion, and it wasn’t anger.

“You thought differently once,” she said, more quietly. “When you found me here, with my rag-tag little coven. We could have attacked each other; started another spate of killing. We chose to make a pact instead, despite how desperate all of us were. We preferred sharing instead of fighting, helping each other as we’d always helped the people around us.

“Our covens were places of refuge, not just for our kind, but for everyone. We made this land greener and brighter by our presence, gave aid and guidance, and shelter in times of trouble. We weren’t perfect, but we listened and we talked, and when there was a dispute, we came together and figured it out.

“Yet you murdered Rilda without a thought, struck her down from behind without giving her a chance to defend herself. It was as cowardly an act as I’ve ever seen, as any the Circle ever did! And yet you talk of changing the world—into what?”

He might have been wrong about the anger, Kit thought, because it was back and flashing dangerously in Gillian’s eyes. But instead of backing down, Morgan met fire with fire. And despite being a ghost, magic crackled in the air between them, and it wasn’t all Gillian’s.

“Rilda!” she almost spat it. “Rilda was weak—”

“We don’t kill our own!”

“—blaming herself, and the rest of us, for everything that happened. She wanted us to go into hiding, to disappear and cede the field! And she was convincing others.