“Where is she?” he asks.
And all of a sudden I realize how they knew: they followed Aunt Penny’s tracker.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammer.
“Here!” someone shouts. A man steps over the crest of the hillside to our left, carrying Aunt Penny’s body in his arms.
“Aunt Penny!”
I stagger forward. Two warlocks move to block me, but I blast past them until I’m right in front of Penny. I desperately want to pull her into my arms, but I stop short at the sight of her. Her arms are ravaged with angry-looking pink burns, which slowly seep blood. Her face is pale, with a sheen of sweat, and a frightening amount of blood is streaked through her blond hair.
No, no, no.
“Aunt Penny!” I cry, my chin wavering uncontrollably. Her eyes flutter open at the sound of my voice.
“Not looking so good, Penny Blackwood.”
Aunt Penny shrinks into herself at the sound of the voice.
“Damien,” she croaks.
I recognize the name. Damien—the leader of the Family who sentenced her to wear the tracker.
The man in the pinstriped suit strides over slowly, a grin pulling up his lips. I step in front of her.
“Move aside,” Damien says calmly.
“No.”
“Do it,” Aunt Penny whispers.
Damien stares at me, his face a mask of calm.
“Do it,” Aunt Penny repeats.
I grunt, then reluctantly step aside.
Damien crosses over to her. For a long moment, he just looks at my aunt. And then he reaches up and tenderly brushes her matted hair away from her eyes. I bite my lip hard to keep from screaming out, but Aunt Penny remains very still.
“Penny, Penny, Penny,” he clucks. “Why couldn’t you just follow the rules? You knew we’d track you here.” He sighs. “What am I going to do with you?”
“She violated the AMO!” a witch yells out. “Burn her!”
A cheer of support goes through the witches. My stomach gives a violent heave.
“It seems your witch family doesn’t think very highly of you,” Damien says, a mock-sad look on his face. But I see something beneath his act—the way he looks at her, it’s almost like he loves her. In a flash, I remember what Aunt Penny told me before about Damien—that she was his pet, his favorite. He could have had her tossed in Los Demonios for having a relationship with their enemy, and yet he fitted her with a tracker instead.
Damien runs his finger along her trembling jaw. “You really leave me no choice—”
“She did it for you,” I announce loudly.
Damien looks up at me, like he’s just remembering I exist.
“She did it for all of us,” I add. There’s a loud sob behind me, but I refuse to look back, to see the scared looks on the teenagers’ faces. Or maybe I don’t want them to see that I’m just as frightened as they are.
I swallow. “The Chief was trying to open a portal out of this place. He was kidnapping teenagers and mind-wiping them so he could use them as sacrifices for the spell. When they got out, they planned to overthrow you. Aunt Penny came here to help me stop him.”
The hillside is quiet for a long moment, save for the cracking and popping of fires burning and the quiet tears from behind me.
“Is that true?” Damien finally asks Aunt Penny. She gives a tiny nod. His face breaks into a wan smile, and he utters a soft chuckle. “Well then, you’re either very brave or very stupid.”
“So you’ll let her go?” I ask.
He considers. “I suppose it’s the right thing to do,” he says after a moment. Then he gives me that same false sad look. “It’s just a shame she doesn’t look like she’ll survive much longer.”
I look at Aunt Penny and know he’s right. It could be hours before we get shot back to Los Angeles, and we’ll be all the way in Venice Beach, far from any hospitals. Aunt Penny doesn’t have that long. She needs help now. And even then, she might not make it.
“Next order of business,” Damien says. “Bring forth the traitor.”
I don’t know whom they’re talking about, and I’m not sure anyone else does either. And then she speaks.
“I’m right here.”
Jezebel stands with her chin held high, her mask tipped back on her head. Her brown robe is ripped and torn, but her curls still hang in perfect loose ringlets down her back.
“Kill her!” someone shouts. The crowd goes into a frenzy. A dozen witches spring forward and grab Jezebel, tearing at her from all angles, their eyes burning with intense hatred. She flinches as they pull her in every direction, but she doesn’t cry, just keeps eye contact with Damien.
“Well, Jezebel. Do you have anything to say for yourself? Any heroic story to share?”
She shakes her head.
Damien raises his eyebrows. “So it’s concluded, then. You’ll burn at the stake.”
I think I see Jezebel shudder, but when she speaks, her voice is loud and confident. “I ask only one thing,” she says.
“Oh?” Damien holds up a hand, and the witches pulling at her clothing let go. “And pray tell, why should we do anything for you?”
“I’m not asking for much. All I want is one minute to speak with Penny Blackwood, and then I’ll go with you willingly.”
My spine goes ramrod straight. “No!”
“I won’t hurt her,” she says. “I just need a word.”
“Absolutely not,” I say.
“I’m afraid that’s not your decision,” Damien says. He turns to Aunt Penny. She looks between Jezebel and me through drooped eyelids. If it’s possible, she looks worse than just minutes before.
“Okay,” she whispers.
I exhale, unable to believe what’s happening.
“Go ahead,” Damien says, gesturing to Aunt Penny. “Hurry up.”
“In private,” she says.
“What? No! She’s going to kill her!” I shout.
“And what would that accomplish?” Jezebel says.
I open and close my mouth, searching for an answer.