Chapter Eleven: Whatever You Know, Don't Let It Show

The witch beckons for us to come closer. Cautiously, I take three steps forward, keeping my eyes trained on her. James tenses next to me, his hands ball into fists. I catch him glaring at Ellie through my peripheral vision. I lay a calming hand on his arm, though my own blood was boiling as hot as Aunt Bodhi's cauldron often does. The witch steps down from her seat and slowly strides up to me, her sleek black heels clicking on the floor as she moves. Ellie follows closely behind her, a smug smile sitting on her face.

The woman reaches me and slips her sharp-nailed finger under my chin. "Don't you look familiar."

She turns her head slightly towards Ellie. "Who did you say she was again dear?"

"Jacklyn Vice, my older sister."

A half smile tugs at the woman's lips. "Ah yes, she certainly has Evelyn's eyes."

My eyes grow wide. "You know my mother?"

The woman giggles, flashes of Vivian's face run through my mind. "Come, let's get you washed up and ready for dinner."

She attempts to take my hand in hers. I yank my fingers back.

"How do you know my mother?"

She sighs and folds her arms. Clucking her tongue, she says "Your mother is my sister, darling."

I crease my eyebrows. "What did you just say?"

She proceeds to roll up her sleeve and extend her long, slender, pale arm to me. An audible gasp flies out of my mouth at the mark on it. "You were branded by the coven."

Only witches who went against coven rules and committed crimes worthy of punishment but not death were tortured and then branded. They were not to be trusted, in the slightest. Bodhi's many warnings suddenly scurried through my head like alley rats. My boot-covered heels scraped the floor as I slowly moved back a few steps.

"My mom never mentioned another sister besides Bodhi."

She scoffs. "Bodhi? That damn woman is still alive?"

I nod slowly. "Why wouldn't she be exactly?"

She rolls down her sleeve and offers me her hand. "Will you please come with me to the dining hall?"

I shake my head. "I don't think that's a good idea, now if you will kindly tell-"

She snaps her fingers, sending five men rushing forth to her side. "Take them to the dining hall," she orders.

The men nod and immediately take action.

I hiss as one of them grabs me by the legs and hoists me over his burly shoulder. Beating his broad, thickly muscled back, I shout at him to put me down. It takes three men to get James to surrender. We are both dragged into a long hallway, which I assume leads to the dining hall. Cursing, I run through all the ways I know to kill someone, and for some unknown reason my sister's not so angelic face pops into my head.

The hallway is lit up with modern lights, against the backdrop of ancient wallpaper. The doors are metal, but the borders are carved and the painting chipped. Feeling disoriented, I close my eyes and slump against the man who is still carrying me. Double doors are opened as James and I are brought into what I assume is the dining hall. One of the men pulls out a chair at the extremely long table before the one carrying me drops me in it. James is shoved into the chair to the right of mine.

He slips his hand onto my thigh and gives it a reassuring squeeze. My eyes meet his. "It's gonna be okay," he mouths.

I nod as Ellie gently places herself in the chair opposite mine. The woman claiming to be my aunt sits in the chair at the head of the table, right next to me. My eyebrows crease as she pulls out a pair of hand cuffs. Latching one onto my wrist, she tightens the other one around the arm of my chair. James's grip on my leg tightens. I lay my other hand on top of his. His hand relaxes, but only slightly.

The contents of my stomach rise as the doors are opened and the smell of whatever they were serving for dinner wafted in. The rotten smell worsened as covered dishes were place in front of each of us.

"Miss Vice, do you know why this place is called the City Of The Dead?" The woman asks, laying a napkin in her silky dress-covered lap.

"Why?" I whisper.

Reaching over she lifts the covering from my plate with a horrid gleam in her dark eyes.