Page 112 of Into the Dark, We Go

"Tell us how to reverse the sigil on her." There was a subtle edge to Nick’s voice, a threat barely veiled.

"Why do you think I know how?" Mathilda asked, not even trying to sound convincing. Which, ironically, made it sound true. She played so many games that when she did sound fake, it almost lent her credibility.

I spoke anyway. "Because you and Robert dragged me into this."

Mathilda looked affronted. "I don’t work with Robert. I don’t work for him. That’s not why I called you here."

"Then why?" My voice wavered. Shecalledmehere.

"Because it has to stop," she said, suddenly serious.

"What has to stop? The disappearances?" Mitchell cut in. "How is her death supposed to fix anything?"

A flicker of sympathy crossed Mathilda’s face. "It gives you a reason to act. And fast. The Harvest Moon is in two days."

"Tell us where to find the grimoire and how to use it," I said, desperation leaking into my voice.

"Robert doesn’t have it?" Mathilda sounded genuinely surprised.

"No. Apparently, he thought we had it," I said.

I didn’t know who to believe anymore. The fragile hope that Mathilda had the grimoire and would hand it over to us vanished into thin air.

"I was sure he had it."

"Why didn’t you stop him yourself?"

"Lord, have mercy, are you plumb crazy? You seen him? You got any idea who you’re dealin’ with? The kind of folks who got his back?" Her voice hardened. "He’s been doin’ this longer than most folks around here have been breathin’."

"So you let it happen to someone you didn’t care about. Great." I bit out.

"You’re quick to judge," she retorted. "And you’re not just anyone."

"Then at least tell us what we can do," Nick cut in, before I could ask her what she meant by it.

"Find the grimoire," she said coldly. "And get the hell out of my store."

"Yeah?"

I approached June and gently took the gun from her hand. She was so surprised that she didn’t even react until it was toolate. I glared at Mathilda and clicked the safety off. My finger vibrated on the trigger.

"I told Robert about you. Maybe he or his men in deer skull masks will come for you tonight. Or maybe I’ll just shoot you myself. I’ve got nothing to lose."

I’d never fired a gun before, but palming it now made me feel almost invincible. Powerful. Like I’d awakened something dark and buried deep, something that had always been there, waiting.

"Nellie, no!" Nick and Mitchell lunged toward me, but I swiftly flicked the safety on. Mitchell carefully pried the gun from my hand.

"You’ve got plenty to lose," Mathilda said, "So start lookin’. But trust me. It’s not here. You’re wastin’ your time with me."

Her calm never cracked, but the blood had drained from her face when the barrel pointed at her. For a heartbeat, I savored the control, the power. But the taste turned sour, my own bloodlust turning my stomach. Was I really capable of murder?

"Let’s get out of here," I said, my gaze holding the witch in place.

Every movement sent a jolt of pain through my body, especially the burn on my shoulder. But for these few seconds, holding Mathilda at gunpoint, I’d felt like I had a grip on something, a fleeting sense of control over my chaotic life. It wasn’t the kind of control my mother would’ve wanted for me, but it was the kind I desperately needed.

Unfortunately, it might be too little, too late.

"Areyou sure the Sheriff wasn’t at the ritual?" Mitchell asked for what felt like the tenth time, back at the motel.