Page 60 of Blood from the Marrow (Lilith’s Legacy #2)

Chapter Forty

Days dissolved into weeks in a strange blur of movement and stillness.

Zuri practiced with the witches, all three covens together, until their magic frayed at the edges, and then waited.

They planned individually and together until even the contingencies had contingencies, and then more fucking waiting.

Sometimes all the Aglion and vamps and witches gathered to drink Narine’s fancy-ass wine, and then waited.

Zuri had expected the waiting to give her crippling anxiety, but being at an unexpected paranormal sleep-away camp was kind of… nice.

Sometimes, when Zuri was drunk on overpriced wine, she let herself imagine what would happen if Sayah never showed up.

If they stayed there forever like castaways with Prime access.

The Salem witches they’d rescued still mostly stuck to themselves when they weren’t practicing.

At first, it made Zuri suspicious, but after a few training sessions together, she understood they had almost no magic at all.

Thanks to Sayah having kidnapped their relic and likely damaging it, they only had a touch more magic than a kitchen witch—a magic-less person who learned how to work with herbs like anyone could.

But the Veil witches were remarkable. Their ease in calling on any soul that had gone to the other side was incredible.

But when they called on their witch ancestors, their power was awesome.

Zuri had spoken to her grandmother like a voice in her own head, but the Veil witches could bring their ancestors into physical form.

Only other witches could see them, and the day Zuri had walked into the garden where they were practicing to see seven generations of Veil witches in all manner of dress, she’d nearly fallen to her knees.

They’d practiced bringing the Salem witches their ancestors, but their coven’s power was so faint, it was little more than a whisper on the wind.

Zuri had offered Elena’s resources in getting them a new relic, but they were unwilling to divulge the secrets of their formation, and Zuri hadn’t pushed.

She wouldn’t trust anyone with that information either.

To know how something is made is to know how to unmake it.

Zuri’s Brujas had shown up in overwhelming force, and even as spirits, their power was vibrant and strong.

Holding her grandmother’s influence was effortless.

And after she’d teased Zuri about not having been invited to her wedding and having to crash it, she’d blessed her union with so much love Zuri had nearly cried in front of the combined covens.

With the Veil’s power, Zuri’s grandmother didn’t just stand at her side; all of her ancestors, generations of women she’d never known, channeled their magic through her.

Avani and Candela had linked with their own grandmothers and aunts and cousins going back to the first Brujas in their lines in the same way.

Stupidly, Zuri couldn’t help but wish for more time.

They had so much to learn from each other that Zuri wondered who’d ever siloed covens from each other.

The more they knew, the stronger they were.

At the risk of sounding like an afterschool special, they were all stronger together.

Not just among the different kinds of witches, but the Aglion and vampires combined were incredible.

The more Zuri watched the Aglion and vampires work together so seamlessly, the more convinced she was that they were two halves of the same whole.

That Lilith had made them as complements, not opposites.

That they’d always been meant to work together.

She couldn’t think about the Aglion without thinking about the gutless shits trying to kill them.

If there was any reason to hurry up and get the fight with Sayah over with, it was to turn their combined might on the hunters and make them prey.

They hadn’t told any of the vampires that the Aglion weren’t witches, but after they’d fought together, Zuri was sure that wouldn’t matter.

Sofia knew what they were, and she was at the very least opening in lust with Judith, if not more.

And Hel and Lib spent countless hours locked away studying Sabina’s notes—every day pulling out the thinnest threat of a new theory.

They weren’t going to abandon the Aglion after this.

How could they when they’d leant their bodies to Elena’s cause?

Zuri wanted more than anything to give Marisol time with her mother without the looming threat of danger.

After having been in Clara’s memories, she couldn’t forget that paralyzing fear of being hunted.

Zuri still wasn’t sure that leaving Marisol behind was the choice she’d have made, but she had no doubt it was the only viable option Clara saw.

They deserved to know what it was like to experience their relationship without it being tainted by fear.

Marisol deserved all the silly shit she imagined parents did with their adult kids.

Clara showing up to Marisol’s house unannounced with some comical cat dishtowels she’d found at HomeGoods.

Picking her up to go shopping on the weekend.

Fucking brunching. Goddamn it, Bambi deserved to drink bottomless mimosas with her mother and eat an overpriced vegetarian eggs Benedict of some kind.

It was a hazy Sunday morning when Zuri woke up late and alone in their enormous bed. Zuri rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and glanced at the clock. Not morning, midmorning. Fuck.

She was brushing her teeth, mouth still tasting like too much red wine, when she had that horrible feeling that she’d gotten too drunk and did something embarrassing. Anxiety was congealed in her chest and dripping into her stomach, making it churn.

As she stepped into the shower, she replayed the night’s events, desperately searching for the source of her dread.

They’d been up late, the drums loud and the dancing energetic, but Zuri hadn’t had more than a couple of glasses of wine and that was after Cordelia’s impressive roast dinner.

It hadn’t been enough to get more than a little tipsy and fall into bed with Elena and Marisol.

So why did it feel like she’d blacked out and subjected everyone to a karaoke rendition of “Shoop”?

It was Winter Solstice, Zuri thought as she pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

The longest night of the year. Maybe she was sensing the Salem witches’ anticipation of one of their important holidays?

After the binding, Zuri was so much more aware of people’s emotions, like a little of Elena’s vampire senses had been transferred during the ritual.

And the ache in her belly was urging her to go see the Salem witches.

She hated to admit that the binding might’ve caused some of Bambi’s empathy to break through and contaminate them too.

Either that, or being a married woman was synonymous with turning into a little bit of a pussy.

Zuri hadn’t gotten as far as the kitchen when the head of the St. Augustine coven was running across the pool deck and toward the sliding glass door.

She was struggling to hold the basket in her hand steady while apparently trying not to fall.

The sight of the old woman sprinting turned Zuri’s blood to ice.

Her anxiety hadn’t been regret; it was a vague premonition. Fuck.

Bolting for the door, Zuri heard Marisol and Elena shout her name but she didn’t stop to look back. She needed to know whatever the hell had turned the Salem witch’s skin so bloodless she looked grey.

“Zuri,” Harriet panted when she reached her under the shade of the patio, wheezing hard like she might collapse.

Zuri didn’t have time to ask why the hell she didn’t send her granddaughter to do the running.

She already guessed the answer—there hadn’t been any time.

“She destroyed it,” Harriet managed, holding her chest like she might have a heart attack.

Zuri reached for her arm, holding Harriest steady even if she wanted to keel over right along with her. “Catch your breath—”

“What’s happening?” Marisol asked at Zuri’s side. Wings on full display, she put her hand on Harriet’s back and held her for a few moments, allowing the woman to miraculously stop wheezing.

“Is your coven alright?” Elena asked, tone giving away that she knew the answer. Knew it a second before Zuri understood.

“Our relic,” Harriet said in a voice so heavy with agony that it made Zuri’s heart strain. She could only imagine the pain of being cut off from her magic. “Sayah destroyed it.”

“I can get you another one, Harriet. You should have allowed me to do this sooner—”

“There’s no time.” Harriet heaved the basket toward Zuri.

“I think she means to come soon, girls,” she said like she was looking at a bunch of schoolyard kids rather than three powerful beings.

“My guess is Sayah wants to cut off whatever help we might have been able to lend.” She shook her head, tears streaking her flushed face. “Well, fuck her. We made you these.”

Zuri took the basket covered in a purple cloth. Marisol uncovered it when Zuri didn’t trust the basket not to break under the weight if she didn’t hold it from the bottom with both hands.

“What is this?” Zuri asked when Marisol revealed hundreds of small glass bottles they’d repurposed from all sorts of things.

From honey jars to containers for spices, essential oils, condiments, beauty products.

Whatever they’d once held, they were all filed three-quarters of the way with a bright blue liquid.

“They have to be wielded by practicing witches,” Harriet said in an apologetic tone.

“Our magic wasn’t strong enough for any better than that.

” She held Zuri in her gaze. “Use them like grenades and only if you absolutely have to.” Her face developed new wrinkles from the stress when she added, “Friendly fire is not only possible, it’s likely.

But wherever they land, they will do an incredible amount of damage.

” She found the will to sneer. “Every last drop of what my coven was is in those vials.” She straightened.

“And I hope you eviscerate those evil bastards.”

Rage knocked the fog from Zuri’s mind and sharpened her vision. Sayah had taken so much from so many, and she wasn’t going to have another victory.

“When we get through this, will you join my coven?” Zuri asked before she could overthink it.

Harriet’s eyes widened. “Is that even possible? We are not of your line.”

Zuri held the basket tighter. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried. Have you?”

“If you’ll have us, and if it’s even possible to join two threads together.” Harriet nodded once. “I’d be honored.”

“I’ll make sure there is a way, Harriet.” Zuri had to stomp down the useless urge to let her eyes water. “We’re not abandoning you.”

“Can you keep some of these to defend yourselves?” Marisol asked, worry shining in her big eyes.

Harriet shook her head. “They would be wasted.”

“If you are defenseless, we have to get your clan out of here,” Elena said, eyes squinting as she scanned the beach like Sayah and her vampires had figured out a way to walk in the sun on an overcast day. “Should we lose, you’ll be—”

“We’re not going to lose,” Zuri said with all the confidence she’d ever mustered.

“Even still. You may not be safe here if you cannot wield magic,” Elena said more softly.

“I’ll send Margot to you while you gather your things.

She showed Lib a bootlegger’s tunnel Narine kept that will take you a mile from here to a safe house.

Librada will give you money. As soon as Sayah’s forces breach our perimeter, you run. You run far and fast.”

“They shouldn’t wait,” Marisol objected. “They should leave now, before—”

“If Sayah or her crew get the scent of them on their way here, they’re as good as dead,” Elena explained. “It’s safer if they run while we have them occupied.”

“It doesn’t feel right to leave like this.” Harriet shifted her gaze between the three of them and then looked at the basket. “My debt for our lives doesn’t feel repaid.”

Marisol put her hand on the woman’s shoulder again.

“There is no debt,” she said quietly, and Zuri couldn’t even disagree.

After weeks together, she couldn’t see Harriet and her coven as a faceless evil.

They’d made a choice under coercion in an effort to save the ones they loved.

Zuri couldn’t say she’d have done any differently.

As soon as Harriet was off, the alarm rippled through the compound like it had a life of its own.

Elena had preferred to let the vampires rest until the afternoon, especially because they didn’t know whether breaking the relic really meant Sayah was coming, but there was no stopping the news.

What better time for a vampire attack than the longest night of the year?

It was nearly sunset when the hundreds of people who had been living together on the compound for weeks gathered in the main house.

Even the Salem witches had packed themselves into the ballroom, their faces grim.

Wedged together in the space, they were such an impressive number.

Zuri was sure it was enough to kick Sayah’s ass until Sofia stood at the front of the gathering.

Sofia was still wearing her outdoor gear when she walked in from having collected her scouts.

When she pulled off her hood, Zuri held her breath.

Vampires rarely wore their expressions on their faces.

Sofia’s youthful appearance in particular was always hard to read.

But now, Zuri registered her worry in the pit of her stomach.

“Sayah is ten miles out,” Sofia announced, each syllable a punch to the gut.

A tense silence fell over the room, thick and suffocating. This was it. No more waiting. No more preparing. No more living in hope. They were going to find out whether they were going to survive. Zuri’s palms flooded with sweat and her vision blurred.

Sofia took a breath. “And we’re outnumbered four-to-one.”