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"There's something I need to tell you."

Hilda stood over the stove with a wooden spoon, stirring together a strangely-hued concoction of something that Remy had never seen before in a large pot. The smell was questionable, causing Remy to wonder why she had agreed to stay for what was bound to be a slightly uncomfortable family dinner when she should have been back in the Mortal World by now. Still, with the way Hilda had pitched it and the way Maksim had looked at her with eyes that seemed to beg for her to stay, she could not help herself.

Remy looked around now, making sure that nobody else was listening. She was relieved to find the kitchen empty, with Maksim still getting changed in his room and his father nowhere to be seen.

Hilda lifted her head, averting her gaze from the pot's contents to Remy expectantly. "If you are having doubts, I will talk to Hecate. We will come to another arrangement, one that does not involve you."

"No, it's not that." She frowned, unable to shake the feeling that Hilda had said such a thing because she hoped it was the case. She did not want Remy involved. She did not want her to gain the means to become a witch. She could not help but feel disappointed at the thought that she was still so unwelcome to Hilda.

She lowered her voice as she continued, leaning against the side of the counter, the heat from the stove sticking to her face as something in it began to steam. "It's Annika. I saw her leave the wake today, so I followed her."

Hilda appeared less than impressed, arching her eyebrow at Remy. "And why on Refilyn would you do that? Need I remind you that you are mortal, Remy, for now at least? If Annika saw you—"

"She didn't," she interrupted hurriedly, desperate to tell Hilda before Maksim or his father returned to the kitchen. "She went into her father's office and found the key—except that's impossible, isn't it? How can there be two of them?"

Hilda's eyes darkened to a murky shade of green. "I made a duplicate when I stole the real key from August. If Annika intends to use it or give it to Ackmard, it will not be long before he figures it out. That little witch deserves to be turned into a toad for all she has done."

"So what do we do?"

"You will do nothing." Her voice was filled with authority as she went back to mixing the food on the stove. It appeared to be bubbling now—something that did not make it seem any more appetising—and the colour was a strange shade of red and brown. "You will go home and keep the key around your neck at all times. I will see to the rest."

"It seems," Maksim's voice arose over the sound of the boiling sauce—Remy hoped it was sauce, at least, or soup—causing them both to jump, "that I have entered an alternate universe where you talk in hushed tones with my mother about something I know nothing about. May I be enlightened?"

Remy turned around, trying her best to appear nonchalant as she placed herself on a stool behind the countertop. "Perhaps we're planning a surprise party. If you keep being so nosy, you'll ruin it all."

Maksim narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms across his torso. Remy could not help but think how surreal it was to be sat here in his kitchen again as though nothing had changed. He was wearing the same green and gold shirt that she had met him in, but everything was different now; the angry scars crawling up his forearms and into his sleeves proved that.

"And what a shame that would be, being as I love surprises and parties so dearly," he retorted.

"Remy is right," Hilda chimed in, taking the pot off the stove. Small sparks of green flickered from her fingers as she used her magic to turn off the switches. Remy could not help but roll her eyes at the laziness of the gesture. "You mustn't be so nosy. Besides, we were not talking in hushed tones. I was simply telling Remy the secret recipe for my soup."

thunderstruck | book #2 | discontinuedWhere stories live. Discover now