Over the next few weeks, Morgan kept the details of her plan regarding Sylvana a secret while she set everything up. She was just as tight-lipped about Max's whereabouts, but promised Reine he'd make contact soon.

He failed to deliver. She still hadn't heard from him when Morgan called in late July saying it was time to act.

With Noor sitting beside her in Emery Wescott's chauffeured Rolls, they headed out of the city to an unknown destination. An identical car in front carried Greer, Morgan, and her sister Paisley. Wedged between two black SUVs, they drove north for almost three hours. By the time the convoy came to a stop, Reine - with her aching limbs and urgent need for the toilet - was sorry for taking Max's private jet for granted.

"Welcome to Scoby Castle," Morgan announced, theatrically extending her arms toward the weathered, stone building behind her.

It was clearly a misnomer. The residence obviously wasn't one of those medieval fortresses that were often called castles in this part of the world, nor did it belong in some fairy tale. Instead, a newly rich entrepreneur perhaps from the textile or shipping industry most likely built it in the mid-1800s to flaunt his wealth.

"Stonehenge has nothin' on the energy under this place. It's been closed-up for quite a while, so ya better watch yer step. Oh, thank you," she said, taking one of the flashlights the chauffer was passing out. "Just follow me."

The entryway was below a five story tall tower, and while Morgan fiddled with the lock, Reine introduced Noor to the two other women.

As the weathered door creaked opened, the unpleasant smell of mildew and decaying textiles hit their noses. Slowly stepping inside one after another, the group panned their lights in various directions, revealing a time capsule likely hidden away for decades.

From the central vestibule, rooms opened to the left and to the right, while a grand staircase - flanked by faux marbled pillars - stood directly ahead. The downstairs curtains were drawn closed, but a huge stained-glass window above the first floor landing was uncovered. It let in the filtered early afternoon sun, casting a cavalcade of colors in the immediate vicinity to break up the eerie darkness.

A thick layer of dust covered everything, and once disturbed, the tiny particles floated into the air like small pieces of glitter. All the furnishings had been left behind, and the antique sofas, chairs, and tables stood in their original places, patiently waiting for their owners' return.

Morgan led the way up the stairs. The treads ominously creaked with each step, but the quality of the construction supported their weight even after a century and a half. The young woman used another key to open the first door at the top, and the group quietly entered.

Someone had prepared the room for their arrival. A round table with five, wooden chairs stood in the center of the otherwise large, but empty space. The curtains were closed here, as well, and the muted beams from the flashlights bounced off the shiny parquet flooring.

Each woman took a seat. With the snap of her fingers, Morgan sparked to life one of the fat candles in the middle of the table. "Use the flame to light each of your own," she instructed the others.

"If we're successful, we'll get some answers today. Now, I didn't want to tell the two of ya too much beforehand because I wanted ya to be able to use your heightened excitement to fuel the process." She looked at Reine and Noor through the warm glow of the candlelight.

Briefly closing her eyes, Morgan took a deep breath before continuing. "If you can all join hands, I'll now attempt to contact the spirits torn from their immortals bodies every time they died."

"Ha! I knew the ghost socks were a good choice," Noor exclaimed with a slight jump, but she quietly bowed her head again after Reine squeezed her hand.

Morgan ignored the interruption. "First, we have to decide who to contact. The energy required for this is usually enough to sustain just one spirit, so it has to count. Remember that whatever they say will be without prejudice, which means they can only reveal facts. They can't say anything that isn't true." She looked Reine in the eyes. "Now I know that I mentioned Sylvana before, but I've been thinking about it and my suggestion would be to go directly to Max. However, it's your call."

Reine shook her head. "You said he'll contact me, so I'll ask the live version of him then. Max would tell me the truth himself if I got a hold of him. I know he would. No. I want to talk to Sylvana."

"Oh, sweetheart. How long are you going to go on defending him?" Greer gently squeezed her fingers in a show of support.

Reine's grip on the woman's hand became more forceful in response. "As long as I believe he deserves it," she snapped without looking at the woman.

"You still love him!" Paisley interjected.

Reine stared at the table and pursed her lips. "My feelings right now are irrelevant, so let's get on with it."

"Very well," Morgan acquiesced. "There is one problem, though."

"You're holding a séance to talk to ghosts, and there's only one problem?" Noor still couldn't contain her animosity, but a sharp look from Greer subdued her. She slunk back in her chair with a quiet, "Sorry."

"What's the problem, Morgan?" Reine prodded, wanting to get started.

"These spirits - or more accurately souls - only have knowledge of what happened to them before they were last ripped from their bodies. Of course the more times they died, the more versions of them will appear, but as far as I know, neither Max nor Sylvana died recently, much less in the last century. So even if they had anything to tell us, it could be worthless."

Reine's heart sank, but she still had to try. "Tell us what to do."

Morgan nodded. "You must remain silent unless instructed to speak. Now, close your eyes and concentrate on Sylvana. Don't let any other immortal into your thoughts or we could get multiple weak contacts, but not enough energy to fully summon one."

Reine focused on the person she hated most in the world and remembered the first time she'd laid her eyes on the woman. It was the same night she became reacquainted with Max. Although it was almost five months earlier, she could still see Sylvana flirting and laughing at his stories. The woman's straight, black hair fell into her face as she leaned closer to the man who just moments before claimed to be Reine's husband.

The anger and jealousy Reine felt that night started to resurface before emptiness replaced it. While she'd been preoccupied with mourning another man for the last few months, she now unexpectedly yearned for her first love. Her breathing became shallow and rapid as she recalled Max's touch - the softness of his fingers as they caressed her face, the warmth of his lips on her own. She held her breath as she realized maybe Paisley was right, after all.

"Reine! Focus, darlin'," Morgan said, breaking the silence. "Perhaps it's better if we keep our eyes open. Just stare into the flames and think of Sylvana."

Doing as told, for about a minute nothing happened. When the table shook before a strong breeze filled the air, they all jumped. Four pair of eyes searched each other's faces for support, but Morgan maintained her control.

"Concentrate," she reminded the others as the increasingly cold wind circled around the table. The walls became lost in a blur, and the candles' flames struggled against the maelstrom. A white mist rose from the ground, slowly enveloping the entire room.

The opaque haze gradually took on form, and although she tried to prepare herself for anything, Reine gasped when she saw faces emerge from thin air. As the figures continued to spin around the room, the ghostly likeness of a few individuals became clearly recognizable. Full-bodied apparitions of Max, Sylvana, Mal, and even Morgan herself floated in the foggy crowd, circling the table of women who had conjured them. They stood motionless, waiting to be singled out and called on.

Mal was present in numerous versions, but it was the unrecognizable ones that drew Reine's interest. Men and women of all ages, shapes, and colors filled the room. Their images flickered and changed; the space was too small to accommodate every immortal soul all at once.

Reine smiled when she caught sight of another familiar face, as Dodger floated behind Morgan. The image of Sylvana quickly replaced him, but the occurrence wasn't isolated. Many of the anonymous individuals slowly transformed into the woman they were there to summon.

Morgan's plan was working, and Reine took one last look around at the spirits of her friends. This may have been the only chance to get information from the woman who'd tried to kill her on multiple occasions, but she now she wished there was a way to also talk to Max's ghost. If Morgan was right, he could only tell her the truth in this form. Maybe she had too much faith in him and this would be the only time he'd ever be completely honest with her.

A fuzzy, blonde-haired figure behind multiple Sylvanas caught her eye.

"Reine!" Morgan scolded her again for losing focus, as the male spirit morphed into the raven-haired beauty. Dressed in a loose, white blouse and a long, colorful skirt, she was now the only ghost surrounding them. Her face was free of make-up and her hair was tied back into a ponytail, making her seem much younger and more approachable than the woman Reine knew.

"Sylvana Banica, we've summoned you to answer just one question for us. Once you do so, you may leave and return to wherever your spirit resides," Morgan instructed.

Reine felt her heartbeat accelerate at the hope of what was to come, and the redhead continued. "Tell us this: why do you intend to harm Reine Baldwin who is sitting here with us?"

The dozens of Sylvanas all raised their hands into the air and followed them with their eyes toward the ceiling. Their mouths opened in unison, and the words echoed around the cavernous room:

Two will come,

They'll break your heart.

Can never be together

Nor apart.

When you meet the final hour,

They will find infinite power.

After the last word, the figures swiftly dropped their hands and bowed their heads. A final gust of wind swept through the room, extinguishing the candles and leaving the stunned group in the dark.

"Whoa," Noor whispered as Paisley switched on her flashlight. The others quickly followed suit, but remained seated.

"What just happened? Was that a curse?" Reine's voice was weak from shock.

Greer seemed less fazed, as she loudly scoffed. "More like a prediction, I'd say."

"But what does it mean? Two of what? And final hour? Did she predict your death?" Noor asked, equally puzzled.

Paisley stood and stretched her arms. "I'd say it's quite obvious. You've been involved in a bit of a romantic triangle, have you not?" She looked at Reine. "The two can only refer to Max and Gabe. How did the rest go? Something about broken hearts? Seeing as you're alone again, I'd think that was also spot on."

"Paisley!" Morgan scolded her sister, but Reine sighed.

"It's okay. She seems to be on the right track. And the rest? Yes, I'm alone and yes, I died. But what about the infinite power? How does that fit? Neither of them benefited from my death, as far as I know."

"That's probably the key," Morgan speculated. "Sylvana must have long believed that your death could bring Max good fortune. Seems like a good enough motive for murder."

Reine shifted in her chair. "At least it doesn't seem to implicate him. It appears she made this prediction years ago, so I guess - in theory - she could still be working toward that goal. Which means she could still be after me."

"Don't worry, love. We'll keep you safe." Paisley smiled.

Greer also patted her on the shoulder in affirmation. "That's another reason for you to stay with the Order."

"What do you mean by another?" Reine furrowed her brows, but the older woman's expression remained unchanged.

"Well, obviously I'm talking about you not missing out having our wonderful company, darling. Now, let's get out of this stuffy place." She left her chair and walked toward the door.

"I'm sorry Syl's answer was so ambiguous." Morgan stepped to Reine's side. "I was hoping for something more definite, but that vile woman found a way to have the upper hand even in death."

"You did what you could and all I can say is thank you, Morgan." Reine hugged her friend before turning toward her sister. "And you, too, Paisley. I know having you here made this possible. I can't believe I didn't make the connection earlier."

"Did I miss something?" Noor looked on with a blank expression.

Reine smiled at the two redheads. "Being a Pendle has its perks, right? Like being some of the most powerful witches in northern England? I knew about the Pendle Hill trials, but I never figured that you two . . ." She shrugged. The revelation almost made her forget her disappointment at coming up virtually empty-handed.

Noor ushered Reine out of the room and clung to her arm as they descended the staircase. "Did you see him, Rennie? There were so many different Mals." She whispered, her voice shaking from the memory. "If Morgan's right, then they were his souls. And if those pieces are now missing from the Mal that I know-"

"Don't say another word." Reine stopped on the landing under the window and looked her friend in the eye. "Mal is the same man you met and fell in love with. And he loves you, too. That's all that matters."

She tried to sound sincere, but Noor was right. Even Gabe had said Mal changed after he became immortal. She didn't know it then, but apparently he took risks and ended up dying many times over a short period of time. Maybe it was the same type of recklessness Max had mentioned at his grave in Paris. Either way, there was no way she was going to let her friend dwell on this. When Greer suggested Noor ride with her and Paisley back to London, Reine didn't object.