Page 17

Chapter 17

There was so much to unpack that my brain could barely process it all. My ears were buzzing and I felt myself sliding to the floor.

My mum … her dementia … all of it emanating from this damned prophecy. Whatever she’d done, whatever wrongs she had righted, it had all come from her hearing this cursed thing. And so many other things had snapped into focus.

I looked for Bastion and found him kneeling before me, concern lining his face. I recited the lines that spoke of him: ‘“A griffin’s wings upon the loyal guide, a familiar bond, forever tied. A bond hidden as the fates decide, loneliness consume, until realms collide...”’

I had spent so long perfecting a potion to find my familiar but when I’d finally drunk it, I’d learned that I already had one. I swallowed hard. ‘Bastion – you’re my familiar.’ I expected the words to come out as an accusation but my voice was flat. I felt numb.

‘Yes,’ he said simply.

So much became clear and Melva was right – I had known the answer but I had been wilfully ignoring it. There was only one way that Bastion could sit on so many truth runes and claim that he had killed Hilary, and that was if he were my familiar. In witch law, a witch and their familiar are seen as one entity. That was how he could successfully claim he was Ellie Tron under a truth rune. Under witch law, he was.

Bastion was my familiar. That was how he’d helped me recover in hospital after Becky’s poisoning and the bomb. He’d used our bond to send me energy, draining himself to save me. I’d seen Lucille do that countless times to help Mum. That was why he’d gone into a restorative coma – because he’d used our bond to save me.

Bastion was my familiar. I wondered how many times I’d have to say it before it sunk in.

‘The rune on your groin…’ I started.

‘Painted by your mother to hide the bond.’

‘From whom?’

‘From you.’

‘Why?’ I whispered brokenly, thinking of the hundreds of slights and insults I’d borne because of my lack of a familiar. From a young age it had set me apart, isolated me. ‘Why?’ I asked again, desperate to understand.

‘A bond to a magical creature, Amber? It would have set you apart as much as having no bond did – in fact, it would have been even worse. You know the prejudice that still exists against the creatures in our world. You were so young, too young to face that prejudice. It wasn’t fair to ask it of you.’

‘It was my choice.’ Rage swirled through me. My mum and Bastion had kept so much from me; they had kept him from me.

Bastion shook his head. ‘No. You were seven. It was your parents’ choice – your mother’s choice. You were too young to make an informed decision.’

His eyes grew distant. ‘You had a nightmare one night when I was talking with your mother. You padded in with a stuffed cat in one hand and a blanket in the other. You’d dreamed the black witches were coming to get you. You were so upset. You couldn’t stop crying.’

He shook his head as if it to clear it. ‘Your mum went to get you a sleep potion to settle you and you came to me. I looked at your tear-streaked face and something happened to me. You were so defenceless and scared that I promised you out loud that the black witches wouldn’t get you. I meant it with all my heart. You smiled and hugged me then you went to sleep. When your mum came back, we were both glowing golden and it was too late. The bond had set.’

It was hard to be mad when he said it like that. We’d bonded because he’d tried to comfort a scared, lonely little girl and I couldn’t be angry with him for that. My wrath faded as quickly as it had come.

‘Your mum had heard the prophecy only days before. That was why she called me that night.’

‘Because a griffin was mentioned in the prophecy,’ I said dully.

‘Yes, and I was the only one she knew.’

‘And in doing so, the prophecy was fulfilled,’ I grumped.

He shrugged. ‘However it came about, I can’t bring myself to regret it. Your mother consulted with her grimoire—’ he gave me a small smile ‘—the one you haven’t told me about that lives in your safe, and he gave her a rune to use to suppress the bond.’

‘For both of us?’ I asked suddenly, my heart hammering.

He flushed. ‘ No. If the bond had been suppressed for both of us there was a risk that it would be damaged, which could harm us both. Your bond to me was suppressed.’

Embarrassment heated my cheeks. A familiar bond allows both parties to sense each other, to know what the other is feeling. It is designed so that a witch can protect their familiar and vice versa. It was galling to think that Bastion had known my every flash of anger, of sorrow, of desire. He’d had my emotions singing in his head for more than thirty years. He had them now, in this moment, while I battled with shock and hurt.

He’d known me in a far deeper way this whole time and I’d barely known him at all. Hell, I’d consigned him to death, leaving him to suffer under a black witch’s curse. What if he’d died and I’d never known he was my familiar? Guilt surged through me.

Bastion held my hand. ‘Don’t feel bad. It wasn’t your fault. It was your mum’s decision and I respected it.’

Anger and bitterness lashed through me again. ‘Because it was easier to suppress the bond than be bound to a child,’ I accused.

‘Whether you knew it or not, I was bound to a child,’ he snarled back, his own anger rising. ‘I’ve been your familiar for three decades. You never noticed that it was always me that saved you, Amber? When vampyrs and necromancers and werewolves threatened you, it was always me pulling you out of the fire. Always.’

He shook his head in frustration. ‘Sometimes I was on the other side of the world, Bambi, when your fear sent me scrambling for the skies, running to you. For a long time I found it hard to come to terms with – I wasn’t used to being at anyone ’s beck and call, let alone a child’s. But being with you these last few weeks, guarding you openly, has been such a relief. Getting to know you properly rather than simply having flashes of feelings that weren’t my own... Being with you.’ He met my eyes with a passion that sizzled. ‘I’ve felt happier than I have for so long.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’ I blew out a breath. ‘I’m sorry it was a burden. Now I don’t know which way is up.’

I guarded my emotions, partly because of my father’s abandonment and partly because of Mum’s illness and my lack of a familiar. I was an intensely private person; knowing that he’d been privy to my emotions the whole time was a bitter pill to swallow.

Melva had remained respectfully silent but now she spoke up. Frankly, I’d forgotten she was there. ‘You’ll need time to process it, of course, but you haven’t spoken of the rest of the prophecy. ’

I frowned. ‘It’s not about me though, is it? It’s about the Crone.’

Melva looked sympathetic. ‘Amber, the whole prophecy is about you.’

‘But the Crone—’ I trailed off. Abigay, the Crone, was dead and gone but she would have a replacement.

Melva continued drawing out what I was too stubborn to see. ‘The Crone is you, child. What I don’t know is whether it will be this appointment or the next or the one after that. But one day you will bear the mantle of the Crone and all the power and responsibility that comes with it.’

Wonderful, I thought drily.