Daughters of Creation

Chapter Twenty-Three: Deracinate (Part One)

"To tear something up by the roots"
—Deracinate

October 26

The six witches and the five Guards and the one unconscious dryad no longer had a clear perception of time. It seemed—to Vela at least—one moment it was the morning of the twenty-fourth and the next day they were watching the afternoon sun stream through the windows of October twenty-sixth. Grief had swallowed the apartment whole; the horrifying reality they failed another innocent divine eating away at all of them.

"You mean he found the dryad?" Ezra repeated, disbelief coloring his normally indifferent face.

Rosalyn nodded gravely, green eyes still puffy from her time in the library. "Vela, Emerson, and Hari found the dying tree who was once the dryad's host. There's no mistaking the evidence for what happened." Ezra shifted beside the Green Witch, his irritation visible—not even Emrie Michele's touch seemed to help.

"That means we've failed five divine and countless others who are affected by all of this." His grey eyes burned like molten steel under dark, furrowed brows.

Vela shifted beside Andre, seeking the quiet comfort she had come to rely on. The werewolf moved beside her, making their positions easier to access their hands and hold onto each other's. Andre hadn't gone with the others to find the Sea Witch but between trying to keep Eytelis alive and the Council away from them, she and Andre hadn't had much time together. Although they didn't have much time together she had become better at deciphering his feelings; learning to recognize her emotions from his and where the two of them met and diverged, like two rivers coming together only to split and then merge again.

"We cannot change what has already happened. We must focus on the divine who haven't been kidnapped yet and save the." Rena shook her head, ever the one trying to see reason.

Vela—and everyone else—knew the strong siren struggled with the loss of her little sister every waking moment and for her to put aside her grief was monumental. All of them could only hope Dana would not be broken by the loss of Dae. None of them knew how they would be able to defeat Casimir if they did not have everyone.

A witch. A werewolf. And a vampire.

They had failed to many already, Vela thought. They couldn't afford to make anymore mistakes.

Figuring out Kaya Calivon's ancestor would remain impossible until Casimir came for them. (In which they hoped they would all be prepared for). But, Seylee—a mad woman if what Millicent told them was true—had been able to provide them with the names of the remaining Eight: the werewolf and the vampire.

"Daresé Sylvalda and Rymes Blackwell." Emrie Michele supplied, blue eyes almost grey from the whirling of emotions swimming behind her gaze.

Andre started beside Vela, his fingers slipping from hers. "Did you say Sylvalda?" his voice was breathless in horror.

Emrie Michele looked confused—all the witches did—but dawning realization stole across the Guards' faces, each turning to the same horror that was etched in Andre's.

"Sylvalda is my Alpha's surname—my cousin's surname." It all tumbled from the normally sure werewolf, as if he could not quite believe what he was hearing or saying.

Vela felt as if someone had wrapped their hands around her heart, fingers digging in and squeezing with all their might, constricting until she physically gasped. "Oh, Andre ..." She felt his terror as if it were her own. She understood what it was like to have someone you loved hunted down.

Andre's face wasn't the only one to turn ashen. Ezra went deathly still beside Rosalyn and Emrie Michele, pale complexion nearly translucent.

It seemed misfortune couldn't get enough of them.