Ivy dropped us off in the middle of nowhere. We are deep into the woods miles away from any town or people. The dead do not wander here either. Not a single bird is chirping or squirrels can be seen. Tall pine trees obscure the sky. I suppose this was the perfect place to be hidden, to be safe and that's all that matters. Dilara and I stood in front of an arched black barred gate, towering and daunting looking. The set of keys Ivy left me suddenly felt heavy in my palm.

But before she left, I needed to know what happened to my apartment. She only handed me three bags and none of them were clothes. The bag I opened had a few of my favorite childhood books, Refugio's jewelry, and the jar of white petals I tore from the tulip Grimm gave me. "You're sentimental. Very human of you. This is what you treasure most." Ivy said with the least hint of emotion but something briefly swept her eyes. "You treasure memories. Everything else was burnt and destroyed." She stunned me.

I didn't necessarily care for clothes although a pair of underwear would've been nice. But these things she saved meant more. This is what I care about the most, my memories. I was going to thank her until she said. "You'll be protected here. Don't leave the house unless you have to. All necessities and accommodations are inside." Her tone clipped. "Every day a demon will come and see if you made any progress to bring the King's wings back. He will come once you are ready." After that, Ivy promptly turned around and drove off. I wish she ended up in a ditch.

"What's her problem?" Dilara then said, accusingly. "Did you piss her off? Did you piss him off?"

I don't like that Ivy keeps using Grimm as a shield to cover her hatred toward me. I know she doesn't romantically like Grimm. She has respect and devoted loyalty to him. Her anger is personal but I don't know why. I have never met her or done anything to her.

I shrugged. "I'm pissing off a lot of people for simply existing. She'll be the only one who can show it. But I might just pluck her feathers off and leave her hairless."

Dilara sighs heavily, "Alright, enough. Let's get inside. I would rather not see that, given that I already watched someone die today." I had forgotten Dilara wasn't used to this but she was holding herself well. On the car ride, I did see her fidget and squeeze her eyes a couple of times. Possibly trying to forget the sound of a snapped neck. Hopefully, there was bread inside. It would help with the nerves.

I walked up to the gate retrieving the chunky padlock. I fumbled with the keys and stuck the skeleton key inside. We dragged the duffle bag and smaller bags. As we followed the trail uphill, I thought if this was either going to be my safe house or prison. Grimm's absence does not surprise me. I knew he was going to distance himself as soon as he spoke those words the other night. It's how it should've been from the very moment we struck the deal but I can't accept it.

I buried my feelings for him and he watered them. Starry eyes. Reddish lips. Wickedly handsome. Devious smiles. Fluttering butterflies. My eyes are lingering on my shadow hoping he would emerge from there. If my heart and mind don't remember you, then my shadows will. I was one step ahead, I was already memorizing him.

There was one way I could keep Grimm by my side. The deal was broken. I asked for silence but it slowly faded. The pain inside my heart is dripping with blood-thirst. I seek vengeance and I will fulfill it. I kept my mouth shut for the good of everyone. I made myself invisible out of the precaution of everyone. That's what my father, my mother, and grandmother needed from me because they knew if I made myself known to the world I would wreak havoc. Too bad for everyone who knows I am alive and wants me dead.

The Capturer of Souls will answer for The Crier of Souls, but there will be no tears, only blood.

Dilara's steps halted. "Oh my..." My brows furrowed as I looked toward the direction of her gaze. Holy shit. This wasn't a house and it was bigger than any house I had ever seen.

Trees sulked over it obscuring its vicious sharp-tipped towers but they were still extravagant. The stone wall was lacquered in black with vines swallowing around them. Thin and arched stained glass windows completed the Victorian style. Hundreds of spears protruded from any high point of the mansion. Near the left there was a balcony, I bet I could see everything from there. This would not be my prison.

"This is a horror house," Dilara said, appalled.

I replied. "It's a castle." I immediately felt her drilling stare but it didn't faze me. It looked like a castle and it should be called one. Was this a gift? Grimm should know better than to give me things. He knows I won't give them back.

After all, I learned it from him.

*****

Twenty rooms, sixteen bathrooms, one library, one dungeon, and a greenhouse later I finally went to the kitchen where Dilara was opening all of the wooden cupboards. She checked to see if anything was missing but everything was stocked. From the moment we stepped inside, it was pitch black and Dilara muttered a spell. All the lights turned on. I was not surprised that the interior design followed the same style as the outside, Dilara did not find this pleasing. Every piece of furniture or item looked like a luxurious antique that belonged in a museum. Everything looked untouched but everything was cleaned, no dust in sight.

A grand staircase was in the middle of the foyer, spiraling either toward the west or east side of the castle. Dilara and I took the first two rooms on the west side. I was surprised to see neatly tucked clothes inside the drawers and shoes in the closet. But they all varied in different size. There were quite a few things that could fit me. The rest could be given away.

I thought this would be an abandoned castle but they had it thoroughly prepared for visitors.

Dilara opens the fridge. "There is food. I didn't know if I should be thankful or freaked out." She turned to me, looking a bit uneasy. "It makes me feel as though he had this planned all along."

I move across the kitchen and open the pantry, my eyes moving from the sauces to cans to spices. "Oh, didn't you hear I am his most invaluable asset? Can't let me starve or I'll throw a tantrum." I said bitterly. I reach for the loaf of bread and place it on the counter. I quickly take a slice out and hand it over to Dilara, "I don't care if he had this planned all along. We won't be staying here too long. Now, eat. You're nervous." Para el susto, Refugio would say.

She raises a brow, I stretch my hand further. "Eat," I repeated. She finally grabs it and sits down on one of the chairs. She takes a bite. I grab a slice of bread for myself.

"My family is going back home. They're leaving for Istanbul." Dilara said, abruptly.

My father delivered Dilara a box from her family. She hasn't seen them in over a year and she held that box as if she was in their arms again. I suppose they wrote her a letter. She runs a shaky hand through the waves of her hair. "The council has become demanding. They don't think I can see them here ever again. They want me to go to Istanbul first and they'll come later. My ticket is for the first of next month." Her eyes are brimming with tears and conflict.

I swallow a piece of bread. "This is good news. Your family is alive and safe. You must reunite with them. You're finally going to see them." She pressed her lips, forming a tight line. "But you'll be alone. You'll go after them. Alone and—" Dilara's voice cracks as a single tear escapes her eye. "I don't want you to die."

I have grown attached to you too, Dilara. I teased. "Do you have so little faith in me? Don't waste your tears on me, I'm not dead yet." She gives me an annoyed look. I push down the lump in my throat and assure her. "I have my father. I'll be fine. We'll be okay."

Days ago, I had asked Dilara to leave but now, she was truly leaving to be with her family. I could never take that away from her because I understand her. My father was alive and just meeting him felt overwhelming in a comforting way. Dilara yearns for her solitude to be soothed by her family. The ideas I have about the council are my problem, I won't force her to fight. She didn't want to give me the council members names but I could figure them out. I already had one.

But I'll miss her. Terribly.

She hastily wipes her cheek. "I'm going to think about it."

"Dilara—"

"No." Her tone is firm. "If I leave out of fear then that's who I will be. Someone afraid of doing what's right. I won't be the last witch they'll cast out and I'm sure I'm not the first one to be separated from their family. It only encourages them to keep doing this." She met my gaze. "Lions, they do not cower. We should not have our tails tucked between our legs. My family should remember that." There was resentment and desperation in her eyes. Betray yourself or save your family. The consequences of being a prideful lion were rising in her heart.

I placed the bread down and folded my hands. "You're brave and you will always be brave. No matter where you are, you will always be you." She smiles slightly. "I wish the world didn't hate you as much. It's a pity they don't know you." My heart squeezes a little and I bite the inside of my cheek.

"Now, are you going to tell me about the conversation you had with your father?" Dilara asks, biting into her slice of bread. I release a breath and debate if I should tell her anything at all. I don't want to sway her decision or influence it anyway. She presses, "What? It didn't go well?"

I sit opposite her and tell her everything. By the time I am done, Dilara looks angry and a bit confused. "I thought your whole family lived here in the U.S. Everyone believes your family lived here. It's insane if the council can interfere with the lives of witches and warlocks in Mexico."

I frowned, crossing my arms. "I don't think they were concerned with the rest of the witches and warlocks there."

Dilara asks, "But why not? If they wanted more witches and warlocks, they would go after them."

"Because that bitch made it personal." Helene Worth was still an injured witch who lost her eye at the hand of my mother. It became personal the moment she killed my grandfather. She caused all of this suffering. She is the reason why my father left in pursuit of vengeance. She could have been the one to order my mother and brother killed.

Soon death will come knocking on her door.