"But if you do know where you're going," I added, "it requires your blood."
"Exactly. Nobody besides you, Anjani, Hansa, Bijarki, Jovi, and myself know of the passage stone at the mansion. Even if they have Hansa's stone, the chances of them landing in my house are minimal."
"It's still a risk though, isn't it?" I asked, unable to shake the feeling that we were still open to an attack from the inside.
"It is, but even Azazel won't venture through a passage stone without knowing where he's headed. Even if he does find out where the mansion is, unless he knows there's a passage stone beneath it, he won't get in." Draven lowered his voice.
I watched as Hansa pulled pieces of wood, smoky strips of fabric, and animal furs from the mess that had once been her home. As soon as she reached the warm ground beneath, she dug her fingers into it and scooped out as much as she could. Bijarki found a wide piece of metal that was sturdy enough to be used as a shovel blade and joined her.
"We need to dig down a few feet," Hansa said between breaths. "I buried the book at the bottom of the central pillar that held my tent together. No one ever dared to go in, and no one knew about the book besides Almus."
///
I looked around, a feeling of uneasiness prickling the back of my neck.
"Are you sure all the Sluaghs are gone?" I asked.
"I don't think so," Bijarki replied. "Some are probably still lurking nearby, waiting for us to leave so they can find new bodies."
"They won't get that chance," Hansa spat. "They might as well shrivel up and die! I won't let them take any of my sisters!"
"We need to do a body count," Draven said. "Maybe not all your sisters were here at the time of the attack."
Hansa looked up at Draven, a glimmer of hope twinkling in her emerald gold eyes. She kept digging. "You might be right!" she replied.
"I'm of no use to anyone right now," I said. "I can help with the … counting."
She gazed at me for a second and nodded. Then, she refocused her attention on the soft, black dirt. I took it as her approval and went to the north side of the camp. I started counting from there, clockwise, making a mental note of each memorable detail-every scarlet feather, finely crafted medallion, or sword hilt, anything that would later remind me of that specific succubus. I recognized the one who had marked Draven as hers during our first night at the camp. She'd died cuddling a young succubus, both their bodies pierced with Destroyer arrows.
I couldn't help but cry at the sight of them. My eyes stung, and hot tears rolled down my cheeks.
Fifty-seven … Fifty-seven … Fifty-seven … I repeated the same number in my head in an effort to keep a semblance of composure.
Draven came behind me and wrapped me in his arms. The warmth of his body seeped into my back and relaxed my stiff muscles. I surrendered to his embrace and cried. His chin rested on my right shoulder, and his temple leaned into mine. We both looked down. He held me tightly as I let it all out.
"She was the first to see the truth," he said after a few minutes.
I sniffed and gave him a sideways glance. My vision was blurry from the tears but still good enough to make out his gray eyes, the blade of his nose, and his soft lips. He was my rock and my refuge, and I still marveled that he was mine.
"What truth?" I asked.
He looked at me, his gaze softening and a faint smile tugging the corner of his mouth.
"That I belong to you and you alone," he replied. "She was the first to see it. And that's how I will always remember her, no matter what happens next."
I felt the heavy weight on my heart lifting at Draven's words, if only for a moment. Despite the death and darkness, he pointed to the little glimmers of light, giving me strength when doubt found a way to trickle into the back of my mind. How had we come to this? How had he become so important to me?
We walked together for a while, as I counted the rest of the fallen members of the Red Tribe.
Soon afterward, Hansa's voice broke through the silence with a thundering echo.
"Found it!"
We rushed back to the center of the camp, where her tent had once stood tall and proud. She rose, holding up the second book of the swamp witches for us to see. She removed it from its protective covering, what looked like a triple layer of fabric and thick brown animal hide.
"Can I see it?" Draven asked.
Hansa nodded and handed him the book. I watched his fingers pass over the front side of the leather cover before they untangled the strings and revealed the multitude of pages inside. I recognized the markings from the first book I'd retrieved at Mount Inon-the same swirls and lines that formed the handwritten language, the geometric symbols and partial pentagrams that would help us perform powerful spells in our war against Azazel.