Chapter 885
“What?” Ziva said in disbelief. For a moment, it felt like she hadn’t heard correctly.
The blind witch, Edith, who had been the one to propose the idea, answered calmly, “You heard Eleanor. Your blood would act as the anchor we use to bind Violet’s spirit. If you permit it, we can begin the ritual immediately.”
For a long moment, Ziva said nothing and simply stared at them, silence stretching uncomfortably around the table.
When the staring became too unsettling, Sakura cautiously asked, “Is something the matter, Ziva?”
That seemed to snap her out of it and Ziva suddenly burst into laughter. The laughter was not the normal type, rather it was unhinged enough to make the room tense instantly.
She laughed so hard a snort escaped her nose, yet she didn’t seem embarrassed by it in the slightest. Instead, Ziva doubled over the table, her shoulders shaking violently while one hand pressed against the wooden surface for support.
None of the witches spoke.
When Ziva finally lifted her head again, tears clung to the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away alongside the snot beneath her nose, still chuckling to herself.
“Oh,” she breathed in amusement. “I see it now.”
Her gaze slowly narrowed toward Edith and Eleanor. “So this is your grand plan to get rid of me, huh?”
Uneasy murmurs spread amongst the witches. They did not like where this conversation was heading. Ziva was unpredictable on a good day. When provoked, she became downright dangerous.
“Admit it,” Ziva sneered. “None of you can stand me. Or do you think I don’t hear the little whispers and gossip floating around this village?” Her eyes glittered dangerously. “The horrible daughter. The rude child who doesn’t know her place.”
Florence immediately tried to calm things down.
“Ziva, no one is saying—”
“Shut up!” Ziva barked violently, pinning the older witch in place with her glare. “Do not speak another word before I decide to end your miserable life right now.”
Florence immediately went silent while the remaining witches kept their eyes forward, none of them willing to become the next target of Ziva’s spiraling temper.
Ziva kept her furious attention on the two witches.
“Do you think I’m not aware you all still hold grudges over the death of my mother, Sarah?” Her voice dripped with accusation. “You believe I’m a monster that should be gotten rid of. Is this it then? The ultimate plan?”
Neither Edith nor Eleanor reacted.
“If the risk troubles you that much,” Eleanor offered, “we can simply use your sister Layla instead.”
“I’m not afraid,” Ziva snapped, the warning in her voice cracking through the room like a whip.
The witches traded discreet glances amongst themselves, weariness hanging behind their expressions. The girl simply could not stomach the idea of appearing frightened.
Unfortunately for Ziva, she caught the disbelief lingering around the table and immediately felt the need to defend herself.
“If the ritual is truly that dangerous,” she rushed out, “then I cannot participate because I’m still useful to Angus, and we can all agree nothing should happen to me.”
Heads bobbed in acknowledgment around the table, but inwardly, the witches all arrived at the same conclusion. Ziva was talking in circles.
“So we use Layla then,” Eleanor settled.
“Layla won’t work.” Edith dismissed immediately.
Ziva’s expression darkened. “What did you just say?” For a second, she genuinely believed the blind witch was challenging her authority.
But Edith answered without the slightest trace of intimidation.
“The anchor must remain emotionally stable since they will act as the bridge reaching Violet. From what I’ve heard, Layla is currently under house arrest after defying your father’s orders.” Her cloudy eyes lifted slightly. “I do not see her remaining cooperative through such a process.”
Ziva’s teeth ground together. Their family was rotting apart and everyone could see it now. Ever since Angus ordered Laura’s execution, Layla had chosen rebellion as if she couldn’t care if they killed her.
If only Hannah and Laura were still around, Ziva would have already dealt with Layla’s growing insolence personally. But their family was smaller now and even they had to keep up appearances.
“We cannot use her,” she bit out, annoyed. “Layla’s unpredictable right now and there’s no guarantee she wouldn’t mess this up on purpose to get her revenge.”
“Lilian then.” Ziva threw out the next name quickly. “She’s obedient, useful, and frankly, no one would miss her.”
Compared to Layla, Lilian barely existed within the family hierarchy. She was one of those daughters only remembered when errands needed running.
Edith looked deeply unimpressed.
“You answered your own problem already,” the blind witch replied with irritation. “She’s submissive. I already told you the ritual requires someone with a spirit strong enough to endure the connection.” Her voice lowered. “Unless, of course, you still believe we are plotting against you.”
“In which case,” Edith continued, “you may explain personally to your father why the ritual failed. I certainly have no desire to become a victim of his anger.”
At this point, Ziva felt trapped somewhere between fury and frustration. If her useless siblings had not ruined everything, she would not even be sitting here arguing with old women. One of them should have been enough.
Then suddenly, a name surfaced in her mind.
“Use Bree.”
The room froze. Even Edith recoiled slightly.
“What?” The blind witch’s composure cracked for the first time. “That girl is a monster.”
“She’s a wendigo,” Ziva corrected. “And she possesses the strongest spirit I’ve ever encountered.”
Her chair scraped loudly against the floor as she rose, suspicion bleeding openly into her expression.
“Unless…” Her gaze locked onto Edith. “There’s another reason you’re so determined to make me undergo the ritual?”
The room became suffocatingly quiet.
“Because if that’s the case,” Ziva continued dangerously, “then you can all fuck off with your plans. It’s not happening.”
Madness gleamed openly inside her eyes now. Not the reckless kind but the dangerous one that made experienced witches rethink every word before speaking.
For several stretched seconds, Edith and Ziva remained locked in silence despite the older woman’s blindness. But everyone present knew Edith did not truly need sight to navigate a room. Her magic guided her and right now, both women were measuring one another carefully.
Finally, Edith relented.
“Bree then.”
The agreement sounded dragged from her throat even though every other witch relaxed.
Then came the cold warning.
“However, you will be the one responsible for restraining that rabid sister of yours.” The witch’s chin lifted slightly. “And should this ritual fail, the consequences will belong entirely to you, Ziva.”