Page 130 of Into the Dark, We Go

"How was I supposed to know they’d take aim at you? And I figured your beau here would’ve had your back. I’m a psychic, not a mind reader."

"But you knew!" I spat. "You knew it was Robert this entire time. You’ve been screwing us over."

Mathilda’s laughter rang through the room, a light, tinkling sound, as she turned away to rummage through her shelves. "Trust me, sugar, I ain’t been lyin’ to nobody. If anythin’, I’ve been the only one tellin’ it like it is around here."

She approached me slowly, her presence wrapping around me like a net. Despite being much shorter, she radiated a power that unsettled me up close. I couldn’t look away from her, hypnotized. Her fingers grazed the bruise on my cheek.

"I’ve been lookin’ out for y’all since the day I knew you were in town," she murmured softly and gave Nick a smile. "And hey, all’s well that ends well, right? Even if some secrets are best left unspoken."

Nick, tense throughout the conversation, gently pulled me away from her.

She stepped back and reached for a shelf behind her, then presented me with a small pouch. "Here. Take this. It’ll help you heal."

I eyed her warily, trying to figure out what her game was this time, but she seemed genuine.

"Just some herbs from my patch for your tea," she said.

I instinctively reached for the pouch, only for Nick to catch my wrist.

Mathilda tossed the pouch onto the table. "Suit yourselves. Just tryin’ to help."

"Let’s get out of here," Nick said, and I followed him, my anger draining, leaving me limp and hollow.

The witch called after us with a sarcastic, "Don’t be strangers," just as the doorbell chimed and the door clicked shut behind us.

Finally, we were done with her.

The early morningsun spilled a pale, cold light over the landscape as we rolled out of Black Water. The town felt changed somehow—less put together, as if a strange weight had been lifted, leaving behind a fragile emptiness. It was now just like any other neglected small American town, weathered and worn. On the church steps, the Reverend swept in slow, deliberate strokes. He caught sight of our car but quickly looked away.

We hadn’t stopped to properly clean up; just changed out of the bloodied clothes to avoid drawing attention, but we had meticulously wiped down the weapons before hitting the main road. We dumped them into a local river, where they sank slowly into the murky depths.

Once we passed the sign that read ‘You are now leaving Black Water,’ I exhaled, trying to expel some of the tension from my chest. We were still a reasonable distance from the highway, crawling along a narrow, empty back road where it would’ve been far too easy for someone to intercept us. I kept glancing behind us, checking for any sign of pursuit.

Nothing. Just the hollow stretch of asphalt.

Mitch drove with June beside him in the passenger seat, staring silently out the window. Nick sat next to me, eyes closed, breathing steadily.

"Why did Robert say you couldn’t use it?" June asked, snapping out of her reverie and turning to us.

"Hm?" Nick opened his eyes, squinting against the bright light.

"The book. Why did he think you couldn’t use it?"

"No idea. He was crazy. Just wanted the grimoire back."

That answer seemed to satisfy June, and she settled back into her seat. But only moments later, she turned to face us again.

"We never learned why he killed your mom."

Nick let out a frustrated breath. "It’s not like we can ask now." His eyes fluttered closed.

The mystery of why Robert had killed Nick’s mother bothered me, too. Had she crossed paths with him, interfered with his plans, or perhaps sought the grimoire for herself? Was this why Mathilda preferred to stay away?

"You think the others will come for us? The ones that ran away?" June pressed on, ignoring the cue to let Nick rest.

"I doubt it," Nick replied with a sigh.

June asked, "You think they’ll come for the grimoire?"