Serpent's Kiss: A Witches of East End Novel (39 page)

“There is only one way we can help Killian and end all this,” Ingrid said. “We need to find Loki. He’s out there somewhere; we need to find him and bring him to justice once and for all.”

“The trident—if we can find the trident, it will lead us to the bastard,” Freddie said.

“The pixies said they lost it in the sea, but if they weren’t able to find it, then it must have slipped into something else … like a black hole,” Freya suggested.

“Or something else,” Ingrid said. She began brainstorming, making associations. She looked to her father. “What makes one forget?”

“Well, there’s Lethe, the river in Hades in Greek mythology, which causes its drinkers to forget the past,” Norman said.

“Yes!” said Ingrid, again recalling her dream in the library. It held a portent that made everything appear to coalesce for her. “Water. The silence of forgetfulness. That’s why the pixies forgot everything: they drank from the silence!”

Joanna began reciting the Thomas Hood poem: “There is a silence where hath been no sound / There is a silence where no sound may be / In the cold grave—under the deep, deep sea.”

“‘Deep in the silence!’ Deep under the sea!” added Freddie. “I was there. They needed me to retrieve the trident—of course. It was inside a gold case, which I didn’t recognize. I had forgotten what it felt like to have it in my possession—crap! I gave it to Liman. It’s probably halfway to Loki by now.”

Everyone let out a grunt in some form or another. It looked grim. But Ingrid hadn’t lost hope. She was tenacious and knew there was always a way—and some problems just fixed themselves, as hers had with Matt. Also Ingrid was in love, and a witch who had fallen in love for the very first time was a particularly optimistic witch, and there would be no stopping her. She could still feel there was magic within her.

“I know how we can get the trident!” she exclaimed. “The pixies can steal it back. After all, they were the ones who stole it in the first place.”

The pixies volunteered for the mission with glee. “We like stealing things. We can find it—wherever and whenever it is,” Sven said. He seemed to be their leader, Ingrid noticed. Funny how that was. Freya was still furious, but she was placated by the knowledge that there was a rescue plan forming.

Freddie said he had an announcement to make, and he cleared his throat and looked suddenly happy. “Well, there is a bright side to all this,” he said.

“What bright side?” Freya snapped. Had she finally found her one true love only to lose him forever?

“Well, for starters, Gert and I are engaged,” he said. Gert smiled shyly.

The family was shocked into silence.

“Congratulations?” Freya said.

“I thought her name was Hilly,” said Joanna, looking suspiciously at Gert.

“No, that’s Brünnhilde, one of the Valkyries who took Killian away,” Norman said. “The one Freddie’s been keen on since the Ring of Fire challenge. I always thought she was too much trouble for you,” he told his son. He held out his hand and Gert shook it.

“Look, I know you’ve all been through a lot, but I’m on your side. I’ve despised Henry Liman since he adopted me and my sister after we were orphaned in Midgard when the bridge fell,” Gert said. “He never treated us the same as his precious Brünnhilde.”

“Her real name’s not Gert. It’s Gerðr. I think you might remember her now, yes?” Freddie asked.

Ingrid nodded and hugged her future sister-in-law warmly. “It’s nice to see you again, too.”

“Well, then!” said Norman, blowing his nose, while Joanna still looked perturbed. She had her son back only to lose him again, she thought. A mother’s love was tested in so many ways. But she remembered this Gert and that she had been good for Freddie. She would calm him down, she thought. She had pieced together a little bit of his life here, with the video game addiction and the harem, and Gert was just the antidote he needed.

Freya nodded. “We’ll need all the help we can get,” she said.

Joanna patted Freya on the back. “I think I need some fresh air,” she told Norman, who nodded.

Without consulting each other, they walked out of the house and through the forest toward the place where Anne had been buried.

To Joanna’s satisfaction, neither the burial mound nor the blank tombstone appeared underneath the oak tree.

“Good.” Joanna nodded. “I hope they had a happy life.”

“As happy as one can be with a mortal,” Norman ruminated. “A brief happiness. I hope Ingrid knows what she’s doing with that detective of hers.”

Joanna took her husband’s hand and squeezed it. “She’ll make it work. I have a confession to make. You know, come to think of it, I never really liked French food.”

Norman smiled.

They walked back to their home to find Ingrid and Freddie standing in shock in the living room.

“What happened?” Joanna asked, alarmed. “Where’s Freya?”

“She just … disappeared! She was right here … Then she was gone,” Freddie said, raking a hand through his tousled hair. “But first something appeared on her neck …”

“Like a noose,” Ingrid said. “I saw it, a red rope burn around her neck—pulling her backward.”

Joanna knew immediately what had occurred. “The passage—she’s been sucked back into the passage …”

“Back to Salem where Loki is waiting to have his revenge,” Ingrid said. She held Matt’s hand and looked at her family. “This has to stop where it began. We’ll all need to return. Follow her back through the passage of time and prevent the witch trials from happening once and for all.”

The Nine Worlds of the Known Universe

Asgard—World of the Aesir

Midgard—Middle World, Land of Men

Álfheim—World of the Elves

Helheim—Kingdom of the Dead

Jotunheim—Land of the Giants

Muspellheim—The First World

Nidavellir—Land of the Dwarves

Svartalfheim—Land of the Dark Elven

Vanaheim—Land of the Vanir

Thank you to everyone at Hyperion for all your enthusiasm and faith in the witches!! Ellen Archer, Kristin Kiser, Elisabeth Dyssegaard, Marie Coolman, Kristina Miller, Bryan Christian, Sarah Rucker, Mindy Stockfield, Maha Khalil, Mike Rotondo, Jon Bernstein, and Sam O’Brien. Big love to my editor, Jill Schwartzman, and my agent, Richard Abate.

Thank you to all my readers who have welcomed the witches into their lives.

Melissa de la Cruz
is the author of the
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling series
Blue Bloods
, which has three million copies in print. She is a former journalist who has contributed to many publications, including
Glamour, Cosmopolitan, Harper’s Bazaar, Allure
, and
Marie Claire
. She spent many summers on Shelter Island, New York, which served as the inspiration for the fictional town of North Hampton. She lives in Los Angeles and Palm Springs with her family.

www.melissa-delacruz.com

Praise for the
Witches of East End
series

“Move over, zombies, vampires, and werewolves, and make way for witches. Melissa de la Cruz, author of the bestselling
Blue Bloods
series, ably sets the stage for a juicy new franchise with
Witches of East End
… De la Cruz balances the supernatural high-jinksery with unpredictable twists and a conclusion that nicely sets up book 2. B+”

—
Entertainment Weekly

“Centuries after the practice of magic was forbidden, Freya, Ingrid, and their mom struggle to restrain their witchy ways as chaos builds in their Long Island town. A bubbling cauldron of mystery and romance, the novel shares the fanciful plotting of
Blue Bloods
, the author’s teen vampire series.... breezy fun.”

—
People

“A magical and romantic page-turner …
Witches of East End
is certain to attract new adult readers … The pacing is masterful, and while the witchcraft is entertaining, it’s ultimately a love triangle that makes the story compelling. De la Cruz has created a family of empathetic women who are both magically gifted and humanly flawed.”

—
Washington Post