EIGHTY FIVE

EIGHTY FIVE
SPECIAL CHAPTER FOUR: OPHELIA COTTONWOOD

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Special chapters serve to shed light on the perspectives of minor characters, providing insight into their roles in the unfolding narrative.

I sat in my living room for the hours that passed, mindlessly staring at the television before me while I clutched onto my phone.

I had intentionally let Camille eavesdrop on the conversation between me and Abigail, hoping she would call back, asking questions.

The guilt that had been gnawing at me for years had gotten significantly worse. I blamed myself for the suffering that Bo's daughter had to go through because of my greed.

So I figured the least I could do was tell her that Abigail was alive and watching her. I knew she would feel so betrayed knowing the relationship that we had was nothing more than fabricated, but it would give me enough peace, and I could just lie to Abigail that Camille had somehow figured something was amiss, so I had to give her something.

When the call didn't come, I picked up the remote and turned off the television.

I then stood up and proceeded into the hallway.

On the walls of my tiny hallway, my eyes landed on a particular picture. Bo and me during our time in the Begonia coven. We were never really close, but we were more than acquaintances. Bo De'Crescent trusted me on a personal level.

Admitting that caused bile to rise to my throat and only made me feel even worse. Because I knew Bo wouldn't want this for Camille. Like Camille, for most of Bo's life, Abigail has been nothing short of controlling her daughter, and it only got worse when a druid woman told Abigail that her daughter would have a hand in breaking the Galdina curse.

Watching the Galdina bloodline crumble was Abigail's life's goal, and hearing that her daughter would be an obstacle to that goal bothered her. It didn't matter if the girl did not inherit her healer abilities. Abigail kept her close. So close that it became suffocating. But despite everything, Hecate granted Bo a mate—a werewolf Alpha.

Convinced that even the gods were plotting against her, Abigail threw her ultimatum. It was either her or some random man.

So naturally, Bo came to be for advice. I had just recently bonded with my companion.

I had done my best not to pick a side. But like they said, a woman asking for advice only wanted a second perspective on a decision she had already made.

Lucien Dumont won, and Abigail abandoned her own daughter, which had brought the girl peace. But the words of the druids were not wrong. Camille was born—a creature much like Abigail herself. A healer unrestricted by the shackles of the gods, and it was all thanks to the poison that Adele Dumont fed Bo during her pregnancy.

Camille was the prophesied child. That was what scared Abigail. Which was why it confused me that Abigail wanted her to awaken fully.

I stopped thinking about it and went into my potion room. I picked up some bandages, spirits, and two bottles of witch anesthetics.

Alaric's disease was starting to eat at him again, and I figured he would need clean bandages.

When I packed what I needed into a tray, I walked back into the hallway and opened the secret compartment where Alaric rested.

I had barely taken a step in when I felt a presence envelop the house. It wasn't just a tingling sensation that prickled at the back of my neck. The air grew thick, charged with an energy that was both familiar and unsettling. The mana signature was fierce, which told me it was a witch. But only one witch could teleport into my space without being targeted by the wards I put up.

Abigail was visiting again.

I shut the door and looked around to see if I could find her.

"Supreme?" I called out.

A shadow shifted in the corner, and I squinted, trying to make out the figure that emerged. As it stepped into the dim light, I recognized the silhouette.

Abigail walked up to me and took one long look at the tray I was holding.

"Is his affliction back?" She asked like she cared, which only told me something was up.

Then, without being asked, she opened the secret compartment and tried to enter. "I should help him out."

I blocked her path, however. Not because Alaric did not need her help. But because I found her too nice. Abigail De'Crescent was anything but pleasant.

"That is incredibly sweet. But you have a schedule, and our arrangement is not due for another week. Why are you really here?"

Abigail chuckled, letting go of the door handle. "You are quite distrusting of me."

"And you're not? That is the beauty of our arrangement. There is a supple lack of trust."

"Right." Abigail mused, waltzing past me and into the living room as if she expected me to follow.

"Fine, have it your way," Abigail said, settling into one of the plush armchairs as if she owned the place. "I'm here because I've heard rumors. Rumors about my granddaughter."

My ears perked up at the word. What evil thing did she want to use me for again?

"Rumors about what's exactly?" I asked, setting the tray down.

"What prophecy?" I asked cautiously, eyeing her.

Abigail leaned forward, her eyes glinting with mischief. "It seems Camille has flown too close to the sun. She outed the stillborn for her crimes. But somehow, it backfired against her."

I felt a shiver run down my spine. The last thing I needed to hear was Camille being hit by another tragedy. But Abigail was laughing about it. The woman was borderline psychotic. But she did love Camille in her own twisted way. If Eva had put Camille in any form of danger, whatever magic Abigail had breathed into the girl would be sucked right out.

"What do you mean backfired?" I asked cautiously, wary of her intentions. "And why are you telling me this?"

"Because," she replied, leaning back and crossing her legs elegantly, "you are one emotional witch."

There was only one instance where Abigail would call me emotional. What she was willing to do to ensure the extinction of the Galdinas'. That was the only instance where Camille seemed to come second place in Abigail's heart.

A sinking feeling settled in my stomach. "What happened to Camille?"

"Her stepsister must be in cohorts with a witch," Abigail said, her smile widening. "The moment she was exposed, she fled out of the Lycan territory with magic. But she took a long some insurance with her. Dimitri Galdina's son."

"His name is Collins, and he is Camille's son, too." I retorted, baffled at how callous she was being.

I needed to call her. I picked up my phone and immediately started to search for Camille's number.

Before I could dial Camille's number, Abigail's hand shot out, a surge of magic rippling from her fingertips. My phone flew out of my hand and into hers, hovering mid-air as if held by an invisible force.

"This is exactly why I'm here," Abigail said, her eyes narrowing. "Your emotional responses are unavoidable."

"Emotional? Collins was kidnapped! By that psychotic bitch too."

"You are not to help Camille find the boy."

My heart pounded in my chest, anger and frustration boiling within me. "Why not? He's her son, Abigail. Her child is missing! Your grandson is missing!"

"That creature is not my grandson," Abigail replied coldly, "Galdina blood flows in his veins."

"You are telling me not to help Camille find her son because Collins descends from the Galdina bloodline? Are you trying to tell me that you want the extermination of Collins and Sophia, too, when you discuss the extinction of the Galdinas?"

"Well, they inherit the crux of the blood that they carry." Abigail retorted.

"Sophia is not a male of the house. Do you want her dead, too?"

"She can make male children, can she not?"

I turned blue. The audacity of Abigail's words left me speechless. The cold, calculated manner in which she discussed the fate of innocent children was chilling.

"You're willing to sacrifice children for some twisted ideology?" My voice trembled with disbelief and rage. "Sophia is four years old, and you're talking about her as if she's expendable. She carries your blood, too."

"Sometimes sacrifices are necessary for the greater good," Abigail said, her voice devoid of any warmth. "You, of all people, should understand that. I cannot live until the Galdina line perishes. I want that to be the last thing my father senses before all of him leaves this world."

"How can you even suggest such a thing?" I shot back. "You're forgetting that these are innocent lives we're talking about, Abigail. Children who have done nothing to deserve this."

Abigail sighed, her expression softening slightly. "It's not about what they've done, Ophelia. It's about what they represent. What they represent for me is more than enough for me to want them dead."

"I know what you have allowed me to know of that history," I conceded, "but that doesn't mean we should condemn innocent children to death. What kind of peace would that bring you? The generation of the new should not have to suffer for the sins of the past. In case you forget, Camille will have to watch it happen, too. You've been a mother once. What mother wants her kids dead?"

"Camille will live."

"No, she won't," I countered. "She doesn't have a heart of stone. She is just like Bo. Can you live with that? Betraying Bo and Camille at the same time."

Abigail looked at me, her eyes searching mine for something. "Can't you?"

Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "Bo brought this fate on Camille, you know. Suppose she had just listened to me. Maybe things wouldn't be this way."

I knew better than to tell her Bo lived her best life when she was away from Abigail. It was shocking to see how Abigail didn't realize she was repeating history.

"So, what you want from me is that I abandon Camille in her time of need?"

"Simple." Abigail nodded.

"If I refuse?"

Abigail reached for a vase opposite her and picked out a flower. Her free finger hovered over delicate white rose petals. I watched the tip of her fingers glow red as she channeled into the flower. The vibrant color started to fade, the petals wilting and shriveling before my eyes, turning brown and lifeless.

"This," she said softly, holding up the withered flower for me to see, "is what happens when you defy me."

The symbolism wasn't lost on me. Alaric's life would be in danger.

"You're threatening me?" I asked incredulously, though the tension in the room made it clear that this was no threat but a promise.

"I'm reminding you to be smart," Abigail replied, and with a snap of her finger, the phone returned to my hands.

I looked at the phone and, to my surprise, Camille was calling. When I turned back to see Abigail, she was gone.