Chapter 3

The phone rang later that day.

It was a number I didn't recognize.

A hesitant voice, an old neighbor from Vermont.

"Elara? It's Jed. Something terrible is happening."

My heart went cold.

"What is it, Jed?"

"Your family's homestead... they're tearing it down. Marcus Thorne's company. The bulldozers arrived this morning."

My homestead. Mama Willow' s home.

The place where The Watcher was bound, where my roots were.

"Seraphina," I whispered. She had found it "creepy" on her one visit. This was her doing.

I hung up, my hands shaking.

The Watcher' s agitation intensified, a roaring in my mind.

I had to get there.

I packed a small bag, just essentials.

As I tried to leave the apartment, Marcus' s chauffeur blocked the door.

A large, silent man.

"Mr. Thorne's orders, Miss Vance. You're to remain here."

"Let me pass," I said.

He didn't move.

Marcus arrived later, his expression unreadable.

"Seraphina is very agitated, Elara. Your presence... it seems to calm her nerves. The doctor said so."

A lie. Another lie.

"I need to go to Vermont," I told him. "My home..."

"It's just an old house, Elara. It was falling apart."

He wouldn't meet my eyes.

Then Seraphina swept in, looking pale but triumphant.

"Darling, the doctor said I need rest. And perhaps... a little boost."

She looked at me, a predatory gleam in her eyes.

"Marcus was telling me about your family, Elara. Your... pure bloodline. He thinks it has healing properties."

My blood ran cold.

"What are you suggesting?"

Marcus spoke, his voice flat. "The doctor thinks a small blood transfusion might help Seraphina. Just a precaution."

"No," I said. "Absolutely not."

They didn't listen.

Two men, dressed as medical staff, entered the room.

They were strong. They held me down.

I felt the needle pierce my skin.

I watched my blood, my life force, drain into a bag.

For Seraphina.

Marcus stood by, his face a mask. "It' s for the best, Elara," he said softly.

The Watcher raged, but I was too weak to channel it, too weak to fight.

The pain was immense, a hollowing out.

I was weak, dizzy, but the thought of my homestead, of Mama Willow, pushed me.

I had to get there.

I waited until they thought I was asleep.

I slipped out of the room, down the service stairs.

I reached the street, hailed a cab.

"Vermont," I told the driver. "The nearest town to the Green Mountains."

Marcus found me at a bus station.

He grabbed my arm, his face furious.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"My home," I gasped. "Mama Willow..."

He dragged me back to his car.

"The demolition is almost complete," he said, his voice cold. "Seraphina wanted it gone. It was an eyesore."

Then he delivered the final blow.

"Mama Willow... she tried to stop the workers. There was an accident. She fell."

He wouldn't say the word. Dead.

Mama Willow was dead.

The world tilted. Darkness swallowed me.

I fainted in his arms.