From Tangled Roots Come Twisted Wings: Not the Same River, #2

By Inka York

When the river rises, there'll be blood on my hands.

My family is tracking the coven as they wreak havoc abroad—creating new vaewolves, attracting wraiths, building an army.

I know this: an attack will come when the river rises.

What I don't know is why. The tree tapestry Mara spent a century seeking is the key, but we're running out of time to discover what it unlocks.

When the coven returns to England bigger and stronger than ever, it's not long before allegiances are tested, throwing my tentative relationship with my sister into doubt.

When the river rises, I must fight for my life, but in the midst of battle, sacrifices will always be made, and my best friend will be changed forever.

Hell is here, and she brought friends.

***

From Tangled Roots Come Twisted Wings is Book 2 of Not the Same River, a six-book series that follows Violet as she goes from lost orphan to treasured warrior, finding the clan she would die for along the way. This series is meant to be read in order.

This book features sibling banter, petty goats, a message from the dead, and an unexpected resident cavorting in the garden.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inklore Books
• Release date: Jan 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781915708021

Book preview

Prologue

Ihad a conversation with Si Moore once about legacies and names and beginnings, and I didn’t have a single anchor tethering me to any of those things back then. My name didn’t mean much when I didn’t know where it came from, but the truth reframes everything. My new name brings its own legacies, but my lost beginning? Turns out my beginning doesn’t even begin with me.

And why would it? Beginnings are infinite. Twelve minutes past midnight on the fourteenth of October seventeen years ago. An unknown night in February when hormones won. The night my parents met on a rooftop, and one couldn’t stand the other. All are beginnings of one kind or another, but there’s comfort in the ultimate beginning—on a mount in Cornwall, fifteen hundred years ago.

After so many years living in the dark, of having the fostering rug pulled out from underneath me, I got used to the ground crumbling away. And the thing about roots is, they’re meant to grow deep.

I want to belong so badly, and I’m richer than I’ve ever been, but traction is a foreign language, and my roots don’t know which way is down. They skid on the surface like oil on water. No grip. No bite.

The value of roots is in the claiming.

Learning my grandfather’s story gave me confidence in the ground beneath my feet, confidence enough to know which way was down. Tentative as they are, I have roots. It’s time to strive for wings, and the ground never looks so solid as it does when you’re flying.

1

Rebellion is Nothing New

Iroll Sean’s teeth in my palm.

I can’t sleep, and Seth isn’t back yet. It’s been days.

The whole truth Magnus promised us feels like a very remote possibility right now. I still haven’t found the rest of Lilith’s story—the tortured truth of a regretful old woman—or told Eden there’s more to the story than she already knows.

Eden insists on family dinners every evening to prevent us wallowing too long in our own rooms. Dinners are quiet.

Daniel is avoiding everyone, his truth buried beneath a mountain of guilt. After all, if he’d just practised more, he’d have been able to teleport Sean away from danger. So, he’s hiding in his caravan.

Amethyst hides in her room, and I feel guilty that I’m grateful for it. I don’t know how to help her through this kind of grief. But at night, she creeps into my bed, her nightmares synced with mine. Sometimes, she slinks back to her own room before I wake. And sometimes, she pretends to be asleep while I sneak downstairs for breakfast.

She’s not pretending now; she’s dead to the world.

I’d give anything to have those old dreams back. The ones that made my skin itch. The ones that meant Sean was still alive. The sound of his head hitting the forest floor drops like a lead weight into my stomach night after night, and there’s no escaping it. Eden wants me to see a therapist, but it feels like a cheek because Sean wasn’t my dad.

My phone beeps with a notification. It’s barely six a.m. I shove Sean’s teeth back into their pouch, laying it carefully in the bedside drawer. The last thing I want is for Amethyst to catch me fiddling with them. I don’t want her getting any more ideas about bringing him back.

A soft smile spreads across my face as I peer at the notification on my phone. I finally accepted Si Moore’s friend request a couple of days ago, liking all his starry night photos and the accompanying mythological stories. But there is not one photograph of his face anywhere on his profile, so I’ve been sneaking looks at my old drawings. And that’s why it’s such a surprise to find Si streaming.

My heart catches for all the wrong reasons—he’s running up walls and back-flipping off roofs. I watch the replay, hit the like button, then put my phone away before I can watch it a third time.

He’ll have seen that like by now. Maybe he’ll be wondering what has me up so early. He’d never guess… not in a million years. But with all his night photography and early morning parkour, one thing is for sure—Si gets about as much sleep as I do.

I leave the room quietly, the throb in my arm distant now, the stench of Magnus’ home-brewed ointment washed away. Instead of going downstairs for breakfast, I grab a blanket from the airing cupboard on the landing and head up to the roof. It’s still dark, and that’s when I realise Si must be abroad somewhere, because the sun was already painting him golden on the livestream.

The darkness never mellows the countryside here. It doesn’t turn my surroundings into muted shades of muddy grey, ready to be painted with morning light. It’s like the velvet sky is a separate thing to the darkness altogether, everything thickening beneath the night, moon or no moon—the earth’s carpet remaining a vibrant green, like the first cut of spring, the purple glaze of evening light never quite extinguishing.

The soft yellow haze of dawn is my favourite time, its warmth calling up the sparkling silver tips of every living thing stretching towards the sun, every flashing rainbow caught in dew-soaked spider webs. We’re not there yet, the morning’s first rays still scrubbing persistently at the darkness—light and heavy warring comfortably, like the weighty thrum of Sean’s blood, rising like a buoy in my chest.

When everything is softened by the sun, I head back into the house for breakfast.

Glenda’s up, her back to me as she keeps one eye on Columbo. Morning, pet.

I drag a stool away from the breakfast bar, wincing when it shrieks across the floor. Morning.

Did you hear Seth got in late last night?

The news freezes me for a second, then I climb onto the stool, reaching for the mug that Glenda’s already filled with tea for me. Where was he?

France.

What? Why was he in France?

She leans forward, elbows on the breakfast bar. He tried to fix things with his boyfriend, but it was a no-go, so he went to visit Vin… his best friend. He lives in Marseilles.

It’s a shame about the boyfriend thing, but I bet we won’t see him until lunchtime. Does he know how long we’ve been waiting for him to come home?

Violet, come on, she says, shooting a sharp look in my direction.

I sigh. I know. It’s just… I’m not as patient as I thought I was.

She chuckles at that. What do you want for breakfast?

Beans on toast?

She nods and gets to work. Drink your tea.

Before I’m done with breakfast, Seth is wide awake and in the kitchen. Meeting in Mum’s study. Ten minutes.

Then he’s gone.

Amethyst has never been to the library before. Her head swivels in every direction as Magnus leads us to the psychomanteum, where we all sit on a cushioned bench. The twinkling lights above us dim and expand into a never-ending constellation.

After a trying week, Magnus doesn’t keep us waiting. He perches on the drinks cooler and says, Daniel has consented to me telling his story.

Seth tips his chin at Daniel. Why doesn’t he tell it himself?

Daniel ignores Seth’s hostile tone. Magnus knows it better than I do.

But first, it’s necessary to tell you my own, Magnus continues, like there was no interruption. My mother was a high priestess. A druid. And I was her seventh son.

Who even says things like this?

He smooths his huge hand over his beard, his eyes lost and faraway. My mother raised me on the mount, but she died when I was a child. Michael looked after me until I was old enough to fend for myself. I always knew what I was… knew that I carried ancient wisdom in my soul. Wisdom that guides me. But my father taught me many things.

How can any of it be real? To my increasingly elastic sense of reality, I can just about concede the plausibility of Magnus being born fifteen hundred years ago to a druid priestess, but angels are so much harder to believe in than demons.

Why is that?

When I first met Daniel, I sensed a connection, says Magnus, but he left before I had a chance to talk to him. I don’t know for certain who his father is, but Daniel is like me. A nephilim.

I’d sort of figured this part out since Magnus’ revelation the other day. Is Daniel like you? That’s what I asked Magnus that day in his shed. If I have angel blood on both sides of my family and vampire blood in my veins, what did that make me?

And this is why you can teleport? I ask.

Yes, Magnus says, lips twitching beneath his beard. If that’s what we’re calling it now.

What do you normally call it?

Translocation. Some call it bouncing. Uriel has many euphemisms for it, though I can’t think of any that are repeatable.

He said he’d fly me to the moon once, Eden says wistfully.

Magnus’ face grows tight. I suspect that was a euphemism for something else entirely.

Who’s Uriel? Amethyst asks.

Eden gets this nostalgic smile. Another of Michael’s brothers.

What else can you do? I ask, before Magnus can break out his epic frown.

The room plunges into darkness, slowly lightening by dim degrees until only Magnus is lit, like a spotlight is shining on him from above. He makes his beard grow down to his knees, then it retracts into his skin until his jaw is hairless, making him look like Archer’s twin.

His face morphs back to normal. I can read auras… manipulate them.

Amethyst leans forward. Manipulate them how?

I can move them from one person to another. He demonstrates by moving the spotlight from person to person. Not the personal underlying aura, you understand, but those produced by moods and feelings. Moving auras can cause confusion as it lifts the mood and transplants it elsewhere.

Can you fly? I feel stupid the minute I ask.

He waggles his eyebrows. Not without my wings.

You’ve got wings?

I can force them out, but they generally tend to manifest in times of great need, he says. I was forty when my wings cut for the first time. My back had been itching for days, and when the wings pierced my skin, it was excruciating. Michael had told me what to expect, but it was no preparation for the reality. What I didn’t know was why they were manifesting at that time.

Did you ever find out? Archer asks.

Unfortunately, I did. The purpose of angels back then was to do their god’s bidding, in this case to punish humanity. I’m sure you know which god I’m talking about. The angels brought floods, famine, plague, war. For thousands of years, they were sent to punish those who worshipped another.

Well, that doesn’t sound very godly, says Amethyst.

Magnus twitches beneath his beard. "Michael led a rebellion, standing before the Divine Council, announcing his intention to fall. He said humankind could not be expected to respect or worship gods who would sacrifice their own children but nothing of themselves. At this, God threw themself onto my father’s spear and disappeared. The highest orders disappeared with them, unable to exist without their god.

"But the archangels were made to be close to man, to lead. My father persuaded his brothers to lead by example, to stop punishing humans for the wars instigated by angels. He was determined that the cycle of violence be broken.

"It was too little too late. Demons had already escaped to the surface, drawn by the violence… by the wickedness of angels. The battle was ferocious. Storms raged, ice-cold rain flooded the land, populations dwindled. But not all demons could be banished, so they were tricked… chained to the deepest trenches of the sea, where they caused earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, such was their fury at being deceived by the angels. A veil of dust spread, temperatures dropped, crops failed, trees stopped growing, and an eerie silence settled on the world.

When the war was over, Lucifer got the glory—or rather the blame—thereby keeping Michael’s good name intact.

So, is God dead? Archer asks.

Yes and no, Magnus says. "They can never be extinguished, but they no longer meddle in the affairs of humans or demand worship. But that is just the one that man made God. There are others. Those less inclined to believe the hype is all about them. Magnus frowns. My father tells this story much better than I do."

It suddenly hits me, the wildness of getting a Christmas present from an archangel. I fiddle with the red stone around my neck, grinning like my face is stuck. So, we have angels on both sides of our family, I say, gesturing between me and Amethyst. What does that make us?

Magnus smiles. It makes you angels. There’s no telling which traits have passed to you through each aspect of your heritage. He gets this faraway look. Even your mother was not quite the cambion we supposed. The demon was merely a vessel for my seed.

I grimace. Okay, but can you stop saying that?

Magnus scratches his beard. I have a theory about who your father is, Daniel, but I need to talk to Michael. I don’t want to say anything until I’m sure, but it was your dream that set me thinking, Violet.

The glowing man dream?

Daniel met him in real life. Too much of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?

I thought I saw him at Adam’s funeral, I tell him. But I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure. My eyes were blurry.

You think the homeless guy in the hairy coat is an archangel? Daniel asks incredulously. That he’s my father?

You said he spoke to you. What did he say? Magnus asks.

He spoke of a great burden, Daniel says. A purpose. He said he’d settled it so his children would never know such a burden.

Did he say anything else?

Yeah, but it was gibberish.

What kind of gibberish?

A poem. A riddle.

Can you remember it?

Daniel frowns in concentration, his words flowing as if he’d recited the riddle a thousand times.

"I’ve etched the back of silvered glass,

Scorched the earth so none might pass,

The roof and floor of every place,

Lies marked with wisdom, health, and grace,

From wheresoever her hate must flow,

Come not from above, nor from below,

Not radiant face, not crow, not moor,

Shall pierce the wall or breach the door,

For it is done and may not be undone,

By the might of men or the demon’s run."

Magnus’ eyebrows disappear into his curls. You have perfect recall?

Daniel shrugs. Sometimes.

Did he say anything else?

No, Daniel says, then, Yes. He said there’s no fruitlessness without fruit. He grimaces. And plenty of babble. Look, Magnus… I know you think he could be the one, but I’m pretty sure he’s a sandwich short of a picnic. When I asked him if he needed anything, he said he was just waiting for his chariot. He says all this with animated arms and total disbelief.

Ha! says Magnus.

Ha, what?

Let me look into it. I should know more by tomorrow with any luck.

What’s happening tomorrow? Daniel asks.

Now the coven is gone, I thought I’d scout for information… assess the situation.

Eden frowns. Can we monitor their movements for a while before you go off gallivanting? Just a few more days?

Of course. Magnus presses a kiss to her temple. Daniel could use some practice with his portals anyway.

Magnus ushers us back into the library. I checked the house yesterday—all locked up—and it doesn’t look like anyone’s been left behind.

Unless you count me, Amethyst mutters, letting out a long, shuddering sigh. What if they come back?

Eden’s tracking them.

Archer’s helping me, Eden says. But we’ve hit a limitation to his powers.

I throw myself onto the wine-red sofa. What sort of limitation?

Archer parks himself next to me. Seems I can only see those I’ve spoken to or had direct contact with.

But you saw Sean, I say. On the day he… you saw him when he was poisoned, and you hadn’t met him before.

Archer shoots me a guilty look, then picks idly at an almost-hole in his jeans. Actually, I have. I sort of met him at the fair, remember?

But he didn’t talk to you. He barely even looked at you. Amethyst narrows her eyes. There’s something else.

Archer lets out a deep sigh. I saw him in the village a couple of weeks ago. He gave me a note.

Amethyst is all expectant and breathless. Well, what did it say?

I don’t know, he says. It wasn’t for me. Wasn’t for you either. He glances at me, then turns back to Amethyst. It was for Violet.

Amethyst scowls at him and shoots me a sideways glance.

Why didn’t you give it to me? I ask.

He told me to keep it safe until… until Mum and Dad took Amethyst in. He glances at each of us, rushing on. And you’ve kind of been glued together since, so⁠—

Amethyst turns on Magnus, voice rising with every angry word. That’s what he wanted to talk to you about? He wanted you to take me in?

Only if it became necessary, Magnus says, and I’m not sure if his palms-out gesture is to pacify Amethyst or protect himself from attack.

He knew it would happen, Amethyst whispers, her faith in Sean’s motives crumbling as she looks at each of us for verification. He knew he was going to die. That’s why he moved us here.

It was just a precaution. Eden reaches for Amethyst’s hands. He wanted to know you’d be safe, no matter what.

Where’s the note? I whisper to Archer.

In my room, he whispers back. I’ll get it when we go back up.

Make sure I’m alone when you give it to me.

Amethyst is watching us now, sniffing loudly and dragging her sleeves across her eyes.

If you’re helping your mum, I say quietly to Archer, who else can you see?

He bites his lip, then says, Boxer.

But… when did you meet Boxer?

Apparently, I’m not quiet enough, because the pitch of Eden’s voice takes a sharp turn towards the ceiling. You told me you were with Violet when you met him.

Archer stares at his feet. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. I fell asleep in the barn because Baby settled on me, and I didn’t have the heart to move her. She woke me bleating her head off, but I didn’t realise why she was agitated until I stepped outside. I guess she sensed him coming.

Eden’s face turns porridgy, her voice a strangled whisper. You met him when he was in wolf form?

I thought he was going to pounce, but he just snarled. His teeth are… Archer shudders. He just… ran away.

I hope it was an accident, Archer, Eden says sternly. I don’t want you going out there to protect the bloody goats. Much as I love the silly buggers, I’d rather the lot of them got eaten than lose you. She leans over from the back of the sofa to plant a kiss on top of Archer’s head, but misses the guilty look on his face.

Just an accident, he says to his knees.

So, you can keep an eye on the coven by watching Boxer? I ask him.

Yeah, but it used to be I could only see the person like… like looking at them through a window, but sometimes it’s more like I’m behind their eyes. His gaze skips to each of us. I know it makes no sense. It’s not like I’m inside them or anything like that. I just see what they see, like I’m looking at whatever they’re looking at.

And that’s how you saw Boxer? I check. From behind his eyes?

Yeah, and I can’t control it… not until I get there, and… Archer glances quickly at Magnus. I think Albert can see me.

What do you mean? Amethyst’s forehead wrinkles into a frown. How can he see you? You’re not actually there.

I was behind Boxer’s eyes when I got there, but it freaked me out, so I… moved. Then Albert looked right at me. I thought maybe someone was behind me… behind my view of things, but there was nobody there, and his eyes followed me.

I shake my head. How is that even possible?

Albert’s very gifted, Amethyst says. "He is a hypnotist. But I didn’t know he could do that."

If your mental connection to Boxer is based on a physical link, then you could be manipulated too, Seth says.

Your brother is right, Magnus agrees. You need to be careful.

Archer nods, then shoots a resentful look at Seth when Magnus looks away.

Where are they now? I ask.

Scotland, Eden says. For the last twenty-four hours. They’re in a coastal area, so my guess is they’re preparing to travel overseas.

They won’t cross the sea without taking extreme precautions, Amethyst says. Mara hates sea travel. This is⁠—

Magnus stares intently at her. This is what?

Look, she begins. Whatever they’re doing must be super important because Mara hates being near tidal waters. Vampires hate it, and she’s more frightened and more superstitious than most. Whatever this is, it’s a huge deal.

Do you think it’s something to do with the tapestry? I ask. What did Sean call it?

I don’t remember, Amethyst says. Something about a tree.

But all that religious stuff he talked about, you know when he told us about the cull, and when he talked to Mara about it at the house. He said you needed faith to use it, and not to underestimate its power. I glance at Archer. That’s what he said, right?

Archer shrugs. I didn’t hear.

You were right next to me.

Yeah, but I don’t have bat hearing.

My chest vibrates, and a surge of something dark and powerful settles inside me. I bolt to my feet, my legs suddenly restless. My head goes floaty and hot like it does when I get my period, but it’s not time for that. I don’t get far before I fall sideways into Daniel.

Whoa, you alright? He grips my arms, setting me squarely on my feet.

Just a bit off balance, I tell him.

I watch mouths move but only hear fuzzy murmurs and the thunderstorm of my blood.

Daniel lowers me onto the sofa, just as my hearing flickers back to life. Is it the same thing, Magnus?

The same thing as what? Seth frowns. What’s going on?

Magnus is all grave eyebrows. Violet and Daniel are experiencing some powerful reactions to Sean’s death. I’m certain it’s due to having his blood in their systems, but I don’t know what the reactions mean. The incubus was enslaved in human form, and now he’s free, but he’s a demon without flesh or blood of his own, and therefore not at all like Daniel and Violet. Whereas Caspar has rejected Sean’s blood, Daniel and Violet appear to be strengthened by it. How long it will last, I can’t say.

There might be something about it in one of Dad’s books, Amethyst says.

Won’t the coven have taken them? Archer asks. Or put them in storage or something? They’re not likely to leave them behind with us lurking about.

Dad has hiding places even Mara doesn’t know about, Amethyst says.

Where? Eden asks. In the house?

I expect so, she says.

Seth scoffs. You don’t know either?

Seth! Eden snaps.

Amethyst presses her lips together. I’ll be able to find them.

It’s too dangerous, Eden says.

I can go with Magnus, Amethyst suggests. If anyone shows up, he can get us straight out.

I’ll go in first to check it’s empty, Magnus says. Then I’ll come back for you.

Amethyst flashes him a wan and watery smile.

On our way back to Eden’s study, the lights in the tunnel flicker momentarily.

Was that you, Dad? Archer asks.

Magnus surges forward, squeezing past us all, his expression grim. No.

Something buzzes up ahead, and the flickering lights chase the sound towards us. The light above my head hums and crackles, then goes out, following the buzz behind me as it leads the way back to the library.

The ground shakes around us.

Seth’s arms shoot out, bracing the tunnel walls like he can stop them collapsing. What the hell is that?

Amethyst’s panicked eyes find mine, and I draw her close, my stomach taking a dive as we race along the tunnel, praying we’re faster than the dirt crumbling from the walls.

2

A Message from the Dead

Archer propels Eden along the narrow tunnel behind Magnus, and I shuffle after them, ignoring the tightness blooming in my chest. Amethyst grabs my shirt like she’ll get lost without me. The light is diminishing fast, and when it’s all but gone, a strip of pale blue light flares in the darkness, dust falling silently through the cracks above our heads, shimmering as it passes through the blue beam.

We burst into Eden’s study, wide-eyed and breathless. I scan the room to see if anything has fallen out of place, but everything looks just as it should. The priest hole has barely closed, and we’re still shaking dust from our hair and clothes when the twins burst into the room.

What happened? Magnus asks. Please tell me it wasn’t one of your bloody experiments.

The twins look guiltily at each other.

Ben grimaces when he catches his mum’s glare. Not exactly.

Eden sighs loudly. Out with it!

We, uh… Ezra began. You won’t believe it.

Ben stares at his own hands. We don’t know how it happens.

You have magical powers, I say.

How did you know? Ezra goes suddenly sulky, and I feel bad for interrupting their news.

Because you’re not the only ones, Archer says.

Ben smiles big. Really?

What just happened? Eden demands. What did you do?

I sort of made an earthquake, Ezra says.

What? Seth sputters. How?

I don’t know. I just sort of pull the earth up through my feet and push it away again. Ben can do stuff as well.

You know how Mum always says the hellscape looks like a hurricane hit it? Ben smirks. That’s because it has.

Earth and air? Eden mutters, then reels off everyone’s elemental powers.

What about you, Mum? Ben asks.

Perfectly ordinary, Eden admits.

Dad?

In answer to Ben’s question, Magnus disappears.

The twins gasp. Where’d he go?

My old house, Amethyst tells them.

Ten minutes later, Magnus is finally back with the all-clear. The second he and Amethyst are gone, I drag Archer from the room.

Sean’s note. I shove him towards the back stairs. I’ll be in the kitchen.

I circle the island and step in something crunchy. There’s Weetabix all over the floor. Even the box has been chewed. I root around the cupboard under the sink for the dustpan and brush just as Glenda appears in the doorway wearing wellies and a scowl. Her cheeks are streaked with mascara, her hair wet and windswept.

I’ll clear that up, she says. I don’t know how that silly goat gets in here. I think she’s figured out door handles.

I don’t mind, I say.

She narrows her eyes. You want something.

Yeah, jam on toast.

You’ve got that shifty look about you, she says.

I laugh. Glenda tells me I look shifty at least once a week. I’d be offended if she didn’t say it to the boys as well, but she’s never wrong. She has a hawk-eyed ability to see everything, including my impending deceit and outright criminal idiocy.

I was about to make tea. I scrape the last of the crumbs into the dustpan and flick them in the bin. Do you want one?

She gives me one more tight-lipped, narrow-eyed look. No thanks, pet. I’m awash. She eyes the shopping list on the counter and glances over at me. More conditioner? I swear you get through it ten times faster than you do shampoo.

Have you met my hair?

She smirks, then her face goes all soft. It’s not the only thing we’re running through lately. I think your sister’s become a bit obsessive about cleaning. Before I can say anything, Glenda peers at her distorted reflection in the chrome kettle. Flippin’ eck, why didn’t you tell me I look like Alice Cooper? I’d better get my hair dry before someone begs for an encore.

A few minutes later, Archer and I are sitting at the island, sipping tea and munching toast. Sean’s letter is long, and Archer is impatient.

Can’t you just read it out, he grumbles.

I want to read it myself first. I shift away from him. It might be private.

Archer huffs and drums his fingers, then huffs some more. I throw him my most withering look, and he stops his percussive assault.

Dear Violet,

You’ll never know how sorry I am for the pain I caused your family. Taking Amethyst the way I did was unforgivably selfish. She taught me more about love and sacrifice than I learned in my first three hundred years of life. Without her, I might never have learned what family means.

Of course, without her, I might still be alive, if I can call it that. For it’s certain that if this letter is in your hands, Violet, then I’m a dead man.

When the deed is done, Mara and the coven will move on, leaving Amethyst behind. Mara won’t dare attempt to turn her while Magnus watches over her. Amethyst will be angry at my decision, but it’s time she had a normal life. You’re her family now.

Amethyst must understand she cannot bring me back. I know she’s stubborn enough to try, but I don’t want to be revived. My life has been long… too long, and I’m tired. More importantly, I grow unstable.

My fear of feeding, my reluctance to take life, it is all connected to the stability of my mind and my heart. It is so difficult to explain the effects that empathy for humans has on the bloodborn soul. Empathy is a mirror for monsters. It’s acid, Violet. I don’t want Amethyst burdened with my mental instability. I don’t want her to know that in these final weeks, I’ve begun to unravel, to lose parts of myself.

You and Daniel will notice changes now. My blood is rare, sought after, and you’re the only non-vampires to have it. Caspar will have shaken off his mortal body by now. For him, my blood is a weakness, but it will only bring you strength.

I can’t say how it will affect you—there are too many side effects, too many variables—but its effects will strengthen over time. Don’t fear it. Embrace it, and allow it to strengthen you. Your own sense of balance is at risk if you fight it.

There’s a book hidden in the house, and I want you to have it. Only you will be able to find it, to hear it. It must be you, Violet. Its companion is a box which I’ve set aside for Amethyst. It’s rather heavy, so you might need help. Ask Old Bones. I have instructed the others to stay with Mara in the event of my death. As a mark of respect, they will not harm you or Amethyst without cause.

I believe Mara will make her move before the next full moon. She’ll want her new recruits trained and turned as soon as possible, but she will not do it while I live, and she will not do it here. It’s too risky. My guess is she’ll travel north to a rural area before attempting to breed her vaewolves.

Finally, a warning about Mara’s infatuation with religious artefacts. The tapestry which hangs in the drawing room is a dark object. As I told you before, it took her a hundred years to reunite the two pieces, travelling extensively overseas to track them down despite her fear of the sea. I cannot stress the significance of such a step enough.

Magnus and Eden are well-connected and well-educated in such matters, and I can’t think of anyone better equipped to stop her. Whatever she’s planning, I guarantee she needs to be stopped.

Watch yourself and your sister, Violet. I wish I’d had time to know you better.

With abiding affection, Sean.

Archer gnaws on a toast crust. Well? What does it say?

He wants your mum and dad to look into the properties of Mara’s tapestry, figure out what she’s up to.

But she’s going abroad, isn’t she?

She could just be in Scotland for the vaewolf breeding. Sean says she’ll go to a rural area for that.

But if she does go abroad… if she takes that tapestry with her, what business is it of ours what she gets up to?

Oh, come on. Do you really think your dad wouldn’t want to stop whatever she’s planning? Or at least be offered the chance to stop it?

Archer stares at nothing for a couple of seconds then nods. What else does it say?

It says his blood will strengthen me, but I need to stop fighting it.

So, will his vampires be stronger?

No, just me and Daniel. It only strengthens non-vampires. Not Caspar though. With Sean dead, he has no blood.

Archer grimaces. Just a fleshless demon now then.

You make him sound so pretty. I fold the letter back into its envelope. He says the old members of the coven won’t attack Amethyst without cause, but he didn’t know about Mara being a shapeshifter, or that the coven would witness an Amethyst clone killing him. Maybe Mara will keep the coven away in case they discover the truth here.

A low sound rumbles along the gallery, and I strain to hear better.

Archer snatches my abandoned crust. What?

They’re back.

We gulp the last of our tea and head to the drawing room. At the last minute, I stuff Sean’s letter into my waistband.

Magnus tugs his beard while he paces. There was nothing left in there.

She took everything. Amethyst clutches a blanket to her chest, her shaking hands twisting in its folds, her strained face battling tears again. There was nothing but a skip full of ashes.

What about Sean’s hiding places? I ask.

I checked inside the fireplaces and behind the loose bricks in the cellar. I don’t know where else to look.

I point at the blanket. But you found that?

She nods. I made it for Dad. It was on his bed.

Why would she leave it behind?

Because she doesn’t want it. Why would she? It’s just a reminder of me. And him.

What else didn’t she want?

Boxer’s drum kit. They locked it in a cupboard with his chair, Amethyst says. And my piano. Magnus said he’ll bring it here.

I offer a soft smile, knowing it was the last birthday present she ever got from Sean.

We checked both the drum kit and the piano for hiding places, Magnus says, and I’m not sure if I imagined the guilty look on Amethyst’s face. Found nothing. Otherwise, the only things left behind were curtains, beds, and carpet in a couple of the bedrooms.

Was anything different? I ask.

Dad’s room had been moved around, Amethyst whispers. "Like he never existed. Like nobody cared to keep things—his things—the same."

How was it different?

They put an extra bed under the window and moved Dad’s bed to the opposite wall.

Magnus stops dead. You didn’t say.

I thought you’d notice, she says. You all saw what his room looked like the night you came to get me. We watched it for ages.

I think back to the night Mara poisoned Sean, how she paced up and down the room, the glee in her voice, the relentless squeaking of the floorboards, and the sight of Sean’s blood pumping from his arm.

When Magnus and Eden leave, I whisper, Did you check the floorboards?

Amethyst frowns. All of them?

In Sean’s room.

There weren’t any, she says. Not any creaky ones.

But there were. Seth’s watching us, so I say, I’ll tell you later. But we’ll have to go back there.

It’s too dangerous, she says.

Isn’t that my line? They’re in Scotland, right? We’ll just go during the day. It’ll be fine.

She still looks uncertain. Let’s go upstairs. You can tell me what was in the letter. I know you’ve read it by now.

Amethyst closes her bedroom door and spends forever arranging Sean’s blanket across the bottom of her bed. When she finally props herself against her pillows, she leans forwards and drags the blanket back up the bed, where she crushes it between her fingers.

We’ll go back to the house tomorrow, I say.

We should take Magnus.

We can’t. I don’t know what’s in the box Sean left you.

There’s a box?

Yeah, and you know what Magnus is like.

He’ll want to assess the situation.

Right, I say. He’ll want to inspect whatever’s in the box… make sure it’s safe.

Why wouldn’t it be? Dad wouldn’t leave me anything dangerous.

I doubt Sean and Magnus have the same idea about what qualifies as dangerous.

I still think it’ll be safer with Magnus there.

"Amethyst, I think he left you blood. His blood."

Why?

I don’t know, I just have a feeling. I mean, it would protect you from her, right? Make you stronger? Sean wouldn’t leave all the responsibility at Magnus’ door. He’d want to give you a way to protect yourself if, for whatever reason, Magnus wasn’t around to help you. We can take OB.

She chews on her lip. What were you saying before about creaky floorboards?

I heard them creak in Archer’s vision. They’re probably under the bed now the room’s been moved around. Sean said only I’d be able to hear it, and I figured the box made a noise or something. Then I realised he was talking about floorboards. I still forget how good my hearing is. We should find OB now before it gets dark.

She nods. Maybe he knows what that tapestry’s called.

It takes us five whole minutes to persuade Eden we only want to go for a walk along the river, and she’s on the verge of relenting when Archer comes in, asking if he can join us. There’s no way we can refuse without them getting suspicious.

Ten minutes later, the three of us are trudging along the riverbank in the last of the summer sunshine, kicking our way through the long grass. The distant green fields have grown gold. Soon the trees will wear their autumn colours, and I’ll be celebrating knowing my family for a whole year.

Where are we really going? Archer asks, and Amethyst and I look determinedly away from each other. Oh, come on, it’s obvious you’re up to something.

We need to talk to OB, Amethyst tells him.

Just as well I came along then, Archer says.

Amethyst snorts. Because you’re totally a match for a three-hundred-year-old vampire?

Someone has to think of your safety, he says.

OB won’t hurt me. He was Dad’s closest friend.

I grin at Archer and say, Come on then, Seth.

Hey, I’m nothing like Seth.

We come to the bend in the river, which signals a thickening of the trees. The allotments are just on the other side of the woods.

3

Old Bones

OB told Amethyst his new hideout was a dilapidated shack, but we find him sitting in a deckchair outside a freshly painted, pea green shed. The allotment is the opposite of its scruffy caretaker—all neat edges and square frames—with beans and pumpkins growing along one side and covered plants on the other. Vines wrap the fence posts and curl through chicken wire, and the air is pungent with tomatoes and creosote. An unlit fire basket sits just to the right of the shed door, and next to that is a small shrine—a tribute to Sean. Amethyst sees it too, and I worry she’ll fall apart, but she bites her lip and looks away.

OB’s face lights up. You came.

He brushes soil off a solid, rustic bench and gestures for us to sit. Archer remains standing, and I sit while Amethyst hugs OB.

Amethyst glances around at the plants. How long have you been coming here?

Almost whole year, he says.