“Yes. Now I’m the one with the gun at your head.”
She looks at me, still calm, still the same controlled Celia. “I understand that you’re angry with me, Nathan. But I am not your enemy. I never was.”
I swear at her. And again.
“Soul is your enemy. He’s the enemy of all true witches, as is Wallend. They’re corrupt. They’re not true witches. Soul is a danger to all of us, Black and White. I’ve spent my life protecting White Witches from the dangers of Blacks but now they are less of a threat to the White community than Soul is.” She blinks. “I honestly believe that, Nathan.”
“I have a gun to your head. I’m a danger to you.”
“Well, there is that. But if you don’t pull the trigger I intend to work with the Alliance to bring Soul and his cronies down. It isn’t possible to do that with White Witches alone. They’re either in Soul’s pocket or too weak. If anyone complains about him they’re punished.”
My thoughts go to Arran and Deborah but I can’t ask about them. I don’t want to hear about them from Celia.
Van says, “Please put the gun down, Nathan.”
“No.”
“I can show you the atrocities that Celia has uncovered.” Van holds some papers out to me. “Photographs of White Witches being tried and executed for objecting to Soul’s regime, memos about each one. Details of who, when, and where. Death warrants signed by Soul.” She flicks through more paper. “Black Witches in France being slaughtered. Lists of names.”
“I’m not interested.”
“You should be.” The other woman speaks now. This must be Isch. She has papers in her hands too. “Some Black Witches think I have no feelings, no concern for others, but these things”—she holds a piece of paper out to me—“are a concern to all witches.”
I take the paper. It’s a photograph of three people: mother, father, daughter. The father is hanging by his neck from a beam. I guess this is their house. The mother and daughter are on their knees. The mother, her face bruised, is crying. The daughter’s face is strange. Blood runs from one empty eye socket. A knife is being pushed into the other one.
“Your sister, Deborah, went to great lengths to get us this information. She’s working for us. She believes as we do—”
“Shut up.” I need to think and I can’t when they talk about Deborah. But I can believe that she’s one of the White rebels; she can’t stand any injustice. I focus on Celia, though. I say, “They’ve killed Black Witches for years in Britain and Celia joined in. They persecuted White Witches who helped Black Witches. And she joined in.”
“Most Black Witches fled Britain, Nathan,” says Van, “though I know many were killed. But this is different. Soul is slaughtering them—us. It’s already on a much bigger scale and getting worse.”
Celia says, “And Soul is not just a danger to Black Witches. Nathan, your father killed my sister but already Soul has done worse. He’s killed my old partner, a retired Hunter, and my niece is on death row. Their only crime was objecting to Soul’s regime. Soul is supposed to protect White Witches. He is betraying us.”
I know Celia isn’t lying. That’s one thing about her. She may have kept things from me when I was her prisoner but she didn’t lie. I drop my arm, turn and walk out of the room and onto the balcony where I can breathe.
Isch
Gabriel is with me, sitting on the floor of the balcony. I don’t talk, don’t want to talk. I’ve still got the gun in my hand but I’ve had enough of guns so I hold it out to Gabriel and he takes it.
After a few more minutes I say, “I think Celia might know something about Arran. He was always being watched by Hunters. Can you go and ask her about him and Deborah?”
“Yes, if you want. But can’t you ask her?”
I shake my head. I’m fighting back tears, though I don’t know why—lots of memories of Celia and me. I say to Gabriel, “I was just a kid. She chained me up in a cage, beat me . . .” And I think of all the times she hit me and used her Gift against me. “I tried to kill myself because of her, Gabriel. I was just a kid.”
*