I had been right. But it all felt very wrong.

Chapter 41

October nights in Evenfall were made for witches, and this one was no exception.

The yellow moon was rising up from behind the trees of the hemlock forest at the edge of town while bats swooped against the darkening sky. The crisp wind with its traces of wood smoke skittered dried leaves across the pavement as a dog barked endlessly in the distance. The stirrings of night magic put most creatures on edge.

I had learned so much over the past several days. Not just about Constance and her family, but about my family and myself.

I had made so many mistakes, but it was time to do better.

Given this was my mindset, it might seem strange I was headed to confront a killer, alone, not sure if my powers would hold out, in a place I had promised myself I would never go. But that was exactly what I was going to do.

I balled my fists at my sides as I stood outside the gates of the graveyard.

“Come on, Brynn,” I whispered into the night. “You can do this. You are in control.”

I took one step, then another, not breathing until I had crossed the threshold.

I had to stay focused. It was the only way this would work.

A sense of calm fell over me as I walked the winding path through the old graveyard, mist swirling at my feet. I had come here for one reason. Nothing else mattered. Not the small critter rustling in the bush by my side. Not the insects chirping all around me. Not the tree branches softly groaning and creaking overhead.

No, the only thing that mattered was the woman standing in the distance by the stone slab with the yellow rose bush clinging to its side.

It was the last grave in the row, at the furthermost end of the cemetery.

She didn’t look over at me when I passed the worn headstones of her parents’ graves.

Rippert John Graves.

Catherine Elizabeth Graves.

She still didn’t face me when I passed the freshly dug grave beside theirs with the tarp over the top of it. The headstone wasn’t up yet, but I knew it would bear Constance’s name.

She didn’t look at me even when I came to stand by her side.

We stood together looking at that last headstone.

Grant Coleman.

“You’ve figured everything out, haven’t you?” she asked, eyes still on the grave before her.

“Not everything. But enough.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re a Warren woman. In my experience, there isn’t much you can’t do.”

I didn’t answer.

“I always thought I would be laid to rest here,” Mary Coleman said, meeting my eye. “But she couldn’t even let me have that.”

Chapter 42

We’re a lot alike, you and me.”

I held Mary’s gaze but said nothing.

“It’s hard to be all alone with our kind of pain.” She looked back at the headstone. “Others try to understand, but they can’t. Not unless they’ve been through it.” She walked over to touch the top of her husband’s grave. “I know I keep saying it, but he was a wonderful man. A good man. I can tell your Adam was too.”