Page 6 of The Damned (Coven of Bones #3)

M A R G O T

Itan glared at Willow, taking the first step toward the dais.

He paused when Lucifer moved to join Willow, acting like her bodyguard rather than the devil Himself.

The dynamic was so bizarre, so unexpected that I caught myself holding my breath as He turned His back on the Coven that would have seen Him dead.

His eyes were only for Willow, facing the windows behind her as He reached down to capture her chin in a moment that was so heartrendingly sweet something within me throbbed.

It felt as if I missed having that for myself, but you could not miss what you’d never known.

He tilted her face up to His, smiling down at her with lips that tipped up at the sides. I could just make out the pride on His face from where I stood, the pure and undeterred approval of her actions.

He leaned down, kissing her gently for all of us to see. She melted into His touch, the tension leaving her body in a way that made no sense to me.

She’d hated Him. She’d come here to destroy His kind.

And yet… the energy between them felt so much warmer than anything I’d seen in all the married couples within the Coven. The matches that were supposedly determined based on compatibility were nothing compared to watching the two of them together.

My skin warmed, the energy of that emotion coasting over it. It brushed over me and then continued on as if it could not penetrate into me.

As if I wasn’t worthy of such warmth.

“Never stop surprising me, witchling,” Lucifer said, turning to stand beside her.

He allowed her to take the position of power, heeding her in a way that most men would be too insecure to do.

Even in our world where the matriarch was the ultimate power, where women were allowed to have it all—magic and a family—the men of our society who clung to their power struggled to give in to the women who challenged them.

Toxic masculinity at its finest.

“You don’t deny it then? You’ve reduced yourself to being a plaything for this asshole?

” Itan asked, turning to glare at his nephew Iban, who watched with a face that had paled with shock.

I almost felt sorry for the friend who had given in to the Covenant’s intentions to marry him to Willow to preserve her magic for her heirs and continue her legacy, but he’d been too stubborn to read the writing on the wall.

“I deny nothing,” Willow said, getting more comfortable in her throne, letting her hands rest on the arms and crossing her legs demurely.

“Though I think we can agree, I seem to be far more than a plaything. Perhaps the real reason you find Him to be such a threat is because He actually respects women enough to allow me to sit at His side.”

“Willow is my wife, and soon we will make it official before your Goddess. At that time, I expect you will all fall in line and accept this union for what it is: the chance for us to start anew. We have the opportunity to come together in truth, our peoples united by marriage,” Lucifer said as Willow leaned forward in her seat.

“I must confess though, Itan, you will not be around to witness what becomes of this Coven,” Willow said, tapping her finger on the vines of her throne.

The words filled me with a rush of hope, my mouth dropping open as Della’s hand squeezed mine.

I felt her stare on the side of my face, unable to tear my eyes away from Itan as Willow’s vines moved forward slowly.

Itan panicked and fought for control of the plant life that should have belonged to him as much as it belonged to Willow, but he’d failed to nourish that relationship the way she had in her short time in Crystal Hollow.

He’d chosen to allow the plants to wither and die beneath the pull of his magic upon them, using them for his own self-interest rather than giving any of his blood back to fuel them for future use and generations to come.

Willow had worked to maintain the balance and done exactly as she’d preached, living within the restrictions of her magic and never taking what she wasn’t willing to give in turn.

The vines ignored Itan’s call, pressed onward and wrapped around his ankles to hold him in place when he attempted to flee. “Willow, stop this!” Iban called, his voice penetrating the eerie silence as none of the watchers dared to draw attention to themselves on Itan’s behalf.

He was a waste of life. A bastard that didn’t deserve to live freely.

Itan struck out when Willow did not retreat, catching a single vine from the Bray throne. It struck Willow across the chest, tearing the delicate organza at the top of her black dress and ripping into her skin. She stared down at it, looking at the parting of her flesh for a moment in curiosity.

It should have been agonizing to be torn open like that, but Willow only looked at it like it was a scratch. I watched in awe as gold spread over the wound as if it were molten, filling the gap with the color of Lucifer’s eyes.

Lucifer was furious, but Willow held up a hand and watched with the same shock I did as the gold receded and the wound healed over for all to see.

Fucking Goddess.

“That’s impossible. Only the Covenant is eternal,” Itan said, struggling against the bonds of the vines as they spread up his chest and over his shoulders. They dragged him down to his knees, the thump of him striking the stone echoing through the otherwise silent room.

No one dared to speak. No one dared to move.

Willow was immortal.

“Were they really, though?” Willow asked, scrunching up her nose and offering the sarcastic response that only she could achieve in a moment where she seemed to realize, alongside all of us, the exact ramifications of her bond with Lucifer.

“You backstabbing bitch! She was your grandmother!” Itan yelled, spitting at Willow’s feet.

“She was an abomination to this Coven,” Willow said, rising to her feet. She descended the steps, stopping directly before Itan as her gaze came to me. She remained silent as she held my stare, sympathy in her face as she watched me.

I didn’t know what it was in that stare, but I knew what she wanted to do. I knew in that moment what she would reveal if I gave her permission, the secret she would unleash on the world.

It terrified me to think of the same dismissal I’d seen from my mother reflected on the faces of the rest of my Coven. They were meant to be my family, meant to be my kin, and yet I couldn’t say if they would care enough to believe me.

If they would support me through my truth.

But Willow would. Willow would stand there and defend me until her last breath, and I knew that in the depths of my soul because it was what was right.

Because she always did what she thought was right, no matter what the consequences might be for herself, or what fear she might feel when she did so.

Because she would always stand for women, and she would always help her sisters take back power for themselves.

She made me want to be braver than I was. She made me want to face my own demons head-on instead of cowering in my room at night and hoping they never came back to haunt me again.

So I nodded, even as tears burned my throat. I pulled my hand free from Della’s grip, taking a step forward until I stood ever so slightly before the rest of the Coven.

“And you are going to tell them exactly what she conspired with the Tribunal members to do,” Willow said, continuing on as she leveled Itan with the full force of her glare.

He had the grace to blanch, staring up at Willow with a furrowed brow. There was a question there, a sincere lack of understanding as he tried to catch up with the trap Willow had laid bare for him.

“How—”

“That’s right, Itan. I know what you did to this Coven, and I know what you did to their daughters,” Willow said, gesturing to the rest of the Coven as everyone stilled. “And you are going to confess it all.”

The vines squeezed tighter around him, making him groan as the creak sounded through the room. “Go to Hell.”

“Tell them why the witches are buried in boxes when they should be with their elements. Tell them why you have deprived the Source of our magic when we return it to the balance. Tell them how you starved it and weakened the witches, all with the intent for each and every one of them to be a sacrifice so that you could live free of the Vessels when they were all dead,” Willow said, shocking me into silence.

I’d known her views of what had happened to the balance and the Coven in the years since her mother left, but I hadn’t stopped to think about the depth to that deception—the motivation.

We were all sacrifices to be cast aside so they could live freely when we were gone. I glanced toward my mother and aunt where they stood on the sidelines, my mother’s pale face the only confirmation I needed as to what they’d intended and what she’d known of it.

They had children. They had grandchildren.

And they were so lost to their own corruption that they didn’t care what their choices meant for them. There was no love to be found in this place, no warmth to be felt.

Only cold, cruel selfishness.

Willow raised a hand, touching a single finger to the front of Itan’s throat. One of the vines followed, wrapping around his neck and squeezing as he glared up at her in brutal defiance. He gasped for breath, struggling against the binds that held him tightly secured.

The vindictiveness in my blood was bad karmic energy, and I knew it, but there was no stopping the glee I felt at watching him struggle to breathe the same way I had.

“Willow!” Iban protested, coming to stand closer to Willow.

Lucifer moved into his way a moment after, blocking his path and forcing him to keep his distance as his uncle sputtered for breath under Willow’s control.

As the twenty-year-old witch reminded her elders what power could be gleaned from maintaining the balance of our magic, from returning to the way we were always meant to be.