“Sometimes a musket works better than Witch song,” Chavis said.
Drenelle grabbed her lantern off the ground. “This is a bad idea. We should stay where it’s safe.”
“Douse the lantern. It will only make us targets and blind us to the night.” Chavis started forward without another word.
Drenelle pursed her lips before blowing out the light, but she didn’t put the lantern down.
Senna stared at the pistol in Coyel’s hands, her whole body loath to go back into the darkness. She listened for the music again, somehow doubting she’d ever heard it in the first place. Hollow silence echoed back to her.
When Senna made no move to follow them, Chavis turned. “Senna, you may need to show us where to go.”
The memory of being shot burned through her, and her long- since-healed arm ached anew. She could taste the gunpowder on her tongue from the night her dog, Bruke, had died saving her. She couldn’t seem to move.
Gently, her mother took her arm. “Chavis won’t shoot anyone unless she has to.”
Going back into danger went against Senna’s every instinct. Fear seemed to lift her stomach into her throat. Steeling herself, she left the lantern-lit clearing behind.
Her mother pressed herself against Senna’s side, and Senna had to admit she was grateful for her presence.
Passing other groups of searching Witches, the five Keepers hustled as fast as they dared, their hands outstretched to feel their way forward, towards the only way in or out of Haven—the underwater cave. If Senna’s attackers wanted to flee, it was the only place to go.
Etched in the side of one of the cliffs was a stone archway. Briars and thistle guarded the entrance and grew thick over the cave’s name: Velveten.
“No one’s been here,” Coyel said, her voice heavy with relief.
“Unless a Witch sang them inside.” Chavis checked the powder in her pan and half cocked her gun. “Drenelle, light your lamp.”
Senna heard the scrape of a rare match. A flame burst to life, burning afterimages into her vision—the sight of Drenelle in a chemise that practically vomited lace. The air was filled with the smell of burning sulfur. Drenelle lit the wick and twisted up the lever on her small, ridiculously ornate lamp.
As light flooded the area, Senna sighed in relief. For the first time since leaving the clearing, she could make out the other Witches’ faces instead of amorphous shapes.
Coyel sang away the briars and thistle that hid the elaborate entrance. It was a place that could only be created by Witch song. The intricately engraved arch was just the beginning. Carved into the rock wall all along the island were perfect trees, mountains, curls of wind, the sun, moon, and stars, even the faces of the Creators. Every image important to the Witches was present. But the once beautiful carvings were worn by time and weather until they were mere shadows of their former majesty.
Much like the Witches themselves.
Chavis took the lantern and eased down the steps. The light threw harsh, crawling shadows on the walls and gave the carvings the appearance of movement, as if they were writhing away from the light. At the bottom, Senna stood on the mosaic stone floor, staring at the black surface of the pool.
Coyel breathed in sharply. “One of the boats is missing.”
“They’re gone then.” Chavis cursed. “How badly was he injured?”
Senna started to clench her fists. Pain shot from her palm up her arm. She made a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a whimper. “About a hand’s span of glass in his stomach.”
Chavis chewed her lip. “The other one either carried him out or abandoned him. Come on, back to the place they were last seen.” She grabbed the lantern out of Drenelle’s hands and shoved it at Sacra. “You stay here just in case. Make sure no one gets past you.”
Sacra shot a concerned glance at Senna before hurrying after Chavis. “I’m not leaving my daughter.”
Chavis handed her one of the pistols. “We need Brusenna to show us where she was attacked. We need four of us to control the Four Sisters. You are extraneous, therefore you stay.”
Sacra stumbled to a halt, her mouth open as if to argue. She swallowed. “You brought me here for this—to guard the door.”
“Obviously.” Chavis started moving out. “Keep your back against the wall so they can’t sneak up on you. If you see one of them, shoot. Aim for the stomach—that way they’ll live long enough to be interrogated.”
Senna paused beside her mother. She couldn’t bring herself to leave her alone. “We shouldn’t—”
Coyel gripped her arm and propelled her forward. “Your mother is a very capable Witch. She’ll be fine.”