Page 177 of Bedeviled

She maneuvers us between looming evergreens and the occasional oak.

“Cordelia is the one who started the group chat,” Sybil says, referring to another one of our coven sisters, one I only vaguely know. “Her specialty is foresight, and she said she had a premonition about you specifically, but it included all the rest of us.”

That…sounds concerning.

“What was the premonition?” I ask. I’m not entirely sure I want to know.

Sybil shakes her head. “She said she’d explain at the spell circle.”

So there’s going to be a spell circle? My nerves ratchet up.

“And you believe that she’s being honest about all of this?” I ask. Maybe it’s an insensitive comment, but there is still a part of me that worries about witches double-crossing me. It happened so often in weeks gone by, and there are still sisters out there who remain bonded against their will. Prolific though he is, Memnon hasn’t been able to hunt down every abuser.

Sybil nods. “I know trusting our sisters is hard, but in this case I do believe Cordelia is being honest. She even gave us some details to verify her claims this was a legitimate premonition.”

My brows draw together. “Details?”

Sybil smirks. “Did you, by chance, burn another house down?”

I glance sharply over at her.

She gasps. “You did! That’s your second one. I believe this makes you a serial arsonist.”

“Demons were after me.” I defend myself.

I see the shudder work its way through Sybil. “I’m so sorry, friend,” she says. “Cordelia told us about it on the group text. Said that you’d be heading my way after it occurred. So you see? There’s your verifiable detail.”

Verifiable details can go suck goblin dicks at the moment when there’s a bigger issue at hand.

“Why didn’t you warn me?” I ask. I might’ve been better prepared for the attack.

She flashes me an apologetic look. “Cordelia said we couldn’t interfere with the events before they happened or else it would alter the future.”

Maiden, Mother, Crone. Just what other sort of events did she foresee happening tonight?

“Did she say whether her version of events turn out well for us?” I ask as we reach a particularly knotted old oak tree.

“You can ask her yourself,” Sybil says. She faces the tree in front of us and lifts a hand.

“Occultatum illuminare,” she whispers.

Illuminate the hidden.

A small door appears on the thickened tree trunk, along with a delicate brass doorknob embellished with ornate leaves.

“This was how the Fortunas would get supernaturals in and out of coven property unnoticed,” Sybil explains, opening the door and revealing a small chamber beyond.

Yet another persecution tunnel.

My heart pounds, half in anticipation, half in dread as Nero and I follow her inside. I still don’t know what in the Seven Hells is going on, or why the evening has taken this turn, but I let myself be swept along anyway.

This entrance to the persecution tunnels is set up much like the others, with a small antechamber fitted with an iron staircase that spirals down to a larger subterranean chamber.

Sybil closes the door behind us just as the first torches hiss to life.

“Alright, this way, Selene,” Sybil says, crossing over to the stairs and leading us to the passage below.

It’s a strange sensation, returning to these tunnels to seek refuge when they have represented such pain and hostility for me in the past.