Page 54 of A Moth to the Flame (Utopia #1)

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

DUKE

It is amazing to me how Wallace and Cordie sit here with even expressions, like we haven’t been doing anything while the witches were ransacking the secret McCoy library. The three of us are packed onto the couch in the sitting room, hands in our laps, prim and proper, nothing suspicious here.

The witches startle when they realize that the whole house has been put back in order.

“Thank you for cleaning this up, Wallace.” Hope smiles at him before dumping a stack of books on the coffee table. “We were going to do it later.”

He returns her smile like she’s not an accomplice to attempted murder. “Why spend time you do not have when I only needed to snap my fingers?”

“Since we didn’t have time to look for any books about mating bonds,” Neveah says, disappointment in her voice, “we’ll go back as soon as we switch them into their right bodies.”

Cordie leans to the side subtly. I follow her gaze to where the corner of the room looks the same as it did before, no staircase in sight .

Fuck yeah, Granny.

Why is this a good thing?

Because they need my blood to open it.

Again, why is this a good thing?

Because they’re not going to get it.

Right. The new plan we hatched in all of fifteen minutes that I’m not confident we can pull off. There are too many unknown variables, too many assumptions about next moves from people we still don’t know enough about.

I don’t think even Wallace really knows what to expect next. He just gave us his best guesses, based on years of experience that Cordie and I don’t have.

He chuckles, “You can search that library all you want, but you won’t find any books on mating bonds. They’re so rare that even fae libraries have precious little information about them.”

Cordie sighs. “What I wouldn’t give to walk through a fae library someday.”

Everyone stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head.

“What?” she shrugs my shoulders. “No one else wants to see one?”

Neveah pins Wallace with a flat stare. “How does she know about fae libraries?”

“Likely because I just spoke of them,” Wallace replies, with a smart-ass grin that looks out of place on him.

“So, we think that Unspoken Water might be able to get them back to normal,” Hope says as she flips through the pages of one of the books. She doesn’t seem to notice the tension radiating off her partner in crime. “If that doesn’t work, then we found a few other options that we can try.”

“We don’t have the luxury of time to test multiple spells,” Wallace warns. “Betty Lou and Cornelius will be unable to distract the coven for much longer.”

Neveah snorts. “Can’t believe I’m even saying this, but your brother did us a favor with that literal shitshow today. I wonder what set him off this time?”

Hope frowns. “Someone probably looked at him funny when he crossed the street. ”

Cordie and I exchange a subtle glance.

The fae who murdered her mother must be trapped in town, too.

Fuck.

Cordie, if Wallace wasn’t the Mothman we saw earlier, his brother could be.

Wallace obviously doesn’t want us to know that, or he would’ve said as much.

And he hasn’t said shit to the witches about our run-in either.

Cordie rises to my feet, barely stifling a groan.

I watch as she forcibly relaxes my shoulders and unclenches my jaw.

If I wasn’t looking at my own body, I might not notice.

Her adjustments are so slight. Or maybe it’s just that I’m not fighting against noticing every little thing about her anymore.

She picks up one of the books, flipping through the pages way slower than she used to read. “If I caused this by wishing at the well, then why not just go back to the well? I know what I am now. I can just undo it.”

Hope and Neveah exchange a look.

“Oh, fuck it.” Neveah sidles closer to Cordie. “This probably won’t matter in a few days anyway.”

To her credit, Cordie doesn’t stiffen a muscle.

Not even when Neveah grabs one of my hands.

She wrinkles her nose as she looks down to where our bodies touch. “You are a witch. Your Granny was once the Grand Dame of our coven. All of us are bound to that damned well, Wallace included.” She lifts her gaze to Cordie’s. “Believe me when I say that the well doesn’t give. It only takes.”

Cordie studies her but doesn’t say a word.

“We didn’t know the shrouding spell had weakened,” Hope offers.

“We never meant for you to find out it was ever there in the first place.” Her smile is sad.

“You were supposed to be the luckiest of us. Not knowing what you are meant that you could leave town. You could live the life you wanted. You wouldn’t have to be chained to the duty that keeps our coven and the fae trapped here. ”

“You…you can’t leave town?” Cordie whispers. She sounds like sh e genuinely cares about these bitches. She turns her attention back to Neveah. “Then how did you go to New York City?”

Neveah twists her mouth to the side. “Never happened. It was all part of the cover story. You’re too smart for your own good sometimes. You would’ve been suspicious if none of us ever left.”

Fae can’t lie. But witches can.

That’s one of the things Wallace had pounded into my head during our little crash course.

“Only the coven and fae are trapped here,” Cordie murmurs. “It doesn’t affect the townsfolk, just as it doesn’t affect me. So, I can just…leave. Move to New York City when this is all over and get lost in the crowds.”

It’s almost funny the way the witches’ faces pale. Cordie’s not too smart for her own good. She’s too smart for everyone else’s.

“Well, technically, we can all leave town.” Hope cuts a side glance toward Neveah. “But not the state. Roughly.”

“If you had ever tried to move outside of West Virginia, we would’ve had to intervene,” Neveah mumbles.

“So, living the life I want only extends as far as a couple hundred miles,” Cordie states flatly.

“Yeah,” Hope agrees with a frown.

“What duty are you chained to, other than being stuck here?” Cordie asks suddenly. “I’m feeling bad for myself, but how much worse are your lives than mine?”

“Do you like taking tests every month?” Neveah mutters.

“Like we did in school?” Cordie scrunches my face.

Hope’s cheeks turn bright red. “Sort of.”

Cordie shrugs. “That doesn’t sound so bad. I always loved school.”

She would’ve loved it a hell of a lot more without me being a spelled asshole of a mate.

Neveah’s laugh is way too dark for a standup routine. “Yeah? And how would you like seducing anything with a dick and two legs in the hopes of getting knocked up?”

If I wasn’t already sitting, I’d be on the floor.

Cordie cocks my head back. “Excuse me?”

“That’s our primary duty,” Neveah grits out with a forced smile. “ To make more babies for the coven. To keep our lines alive and our numbers strong.”

How many witches are running around Utopia? How many of them have seduced my brothers?

One of their names slaps me in Cordie’s face.

Savina.

Savina and Cash were friends with benefits for years. She strung him along, gave him just enough hope to keep a candle burning for something more than physical between them.

Fuck. Are there a bunch of half-fae, half-witch babies hidden around here somewhere? Does anyone even know who their kids are?

“I’m so sorry,” Cordie chokes out. “I—I didn’t know. No wonder you hate me. I could’ve lived my entire life childless and single and happy with my books while you’re all forced to be…baby factories.”

Neveah lets out a watery, dark laugh. “You wouldn’t have been childless. Not forever.”

An icy cold sensation creeps over Cordie’s chest the way frost creeps over a windowpane.

“I don’t understand,” Cordie murmurs, glancing between the witches. “Your shrouding spell was good. It worked. Even in Charleston, no one wanted me.”

I have the urge to rip my body away from Neveah, to protect Cordie from whatever spell these witches are weaving now.

To save her from the pain of more lies and half-truths that we all know are coming.

To take her to that tower I used to imagine when we were young.

I’d lock her inside and treat her like a queen until all she knows is peace and happiness.

Hope’s cheeks are still way too red. She sits on Granny McCoy’s chair and whispers, “Witchy nature is a powerful thing. We can only fight it for so long before the magic compels us to give in. We’re…

drawn to men, to seduce them, to enjoy the pleasure they offer.

A witch can’t reach the highest levels of spellcasting until her belly swells with a child. ”

I can feel the swirling rage in Cordie’s mind the same way I felt her pain when she was in the library.

She’s pissed as all hell. The only sign of it on my face is the way she blinks rapidly. “Is there no such thing as gay witches? What about infertility?”

Neveah swipes one of her arms across her face, like she might actually be crying, or she’s just a damn fine actress.

“Oh, infertility isn’t our problem. Witches are one of the most fertile magical beings.

And hey, why not? If we level up in power every time we pop out a squealing witchling, then what witch in her right mind wouldn’t want to have as many kids as she can? ”

Judging by her sarcasm, I’m guessing Neveah isn’t in her right mind.

“There’s…there’s really no other way to level up?” Cordie asks. “Not without bearing children?”

Neveah shakes her head.

Hope lifts her gaze toward Wallace, who’s been weirdly silent this whole time. She murmurs, “Magic demands balance. It’s a long story, and we really don’t have time for the full history lesson. The sooner we get you back into your right body, the sooner this can all be just a bad dream to you.”

Cordie nods slowly before speaking. “Thank you. I had no idea that my lonely life was the lesser of two evils. I’m so sorry that you don’t have the same chance of escape. If I had the power to change your fortunes, I would.”

Neveah laughs again. “Yeah, well, you don’t, so stop acting like a spoiled brat and get back to living your best life. The least you can do is let us live vicariously through you.”

“Okay.” Cordie straightens my shoulders, staring at the pile of books like she’s ready to get down to business. “What’s Unspoken Water? What do we need to do?”

Hope looks at Wallace. “We need to find a cemetery that’s only accessible by a bridge over running water.”

An image of a bridge slams into me. The first time I saw it, and the last.

While everyone else flips through books and produces maps out of thin air, I relive some of the worst moments of my life in silence.

Until a soft voice breaks through my sorrow. Duke?

“I know where we can go,” I whisper .

All eyes turn toward me, but the only gaze I care about is Cordelia’s. If this works—if the witches aren’t dead wrong or leading us into a trap—then I’ll finally be able to look into my mate’s eyes instead of my own.

“Well?” Neveah scoffs, crossing her arms. “Are you going to spit it out or make us guess?”

“Weeping Willows,” I rasp, as a flicker of hope lights up the darkness in my head.

Hope frowns. “How do you know it has what we need?”

“Because that’s where my mama and daddy met.”