Ronan

Chapter Eighteen

Rosa sucked in a deep breath, a rucksack on her back as she meandered down the stairs to the cells once more. This time she carried a torch with her, illuminating the space ahead in an eery glow.

She had more answers than she did the last time she'd come down here but still not enough. What purpose did Fenrir serve? What were all of the others here for? How would Ronan get them to do his bidding?

She made her way to the bottom of the corridor first. If anyone was going to be forthcoming and helpful, then she'd place her bets on it being the same witch as last time. Especially now Rosa had come bearing... gifts.

She stopped in front of the deceased witch Queen's cell. Said witch stared up at her expectantly from the ground.

"Your name's Raya."

"How'd you figure that out?"

"As far as Other World history goes, the history of the witches is well known. Most people have heard your story before."

Without having to ask, Rosa had a feeling she knew why Ronan had brought her back from the dead. Annaliese had to be one of the biggest threats standing—especially with rumours milling around that she had access to Ronan's blood. What better way to get her in line than to threaten her with her very own Mother?

"My story," Raya enunciated bitterly. "Being hung and left out to dry by my oh so very loving husband."

"I want your help."

"You want my help?"

Like all things where witches were concerned, Rosa had a feeling this wouldn't come easily.

"Yeah, I know, that'll come with a price. Which is why I've got some stuff for you. It's not much, but it ought to sway you towards my favour."

She shoved the rucksack through the thin gaps the bars offered, letting it slump to the floor in front of the Queen.

Tentatively, Raya reached out for it, dragging it closer.

She rifled through the pack, pulling out sandwiches and biscuits and other such treats.

"What's this?" She lifted a jammy dodger.

"Food. It's probably not the same stuff you were eating three hundred years ago, but it's edible. Water. Wipes. Blankets. And answers."

Raya paused her searching. "Answers?"

"I want to know what Ronan's doing down here. As someone down here, I'd wager you've gotten a feel for who you're surrounded by. Something's got to keep you busy. And if the goody bag wasn't enough, then I can tell you about Annaliese."

Raya's entire body tensed. Coldly, she turned to Rosa, demanding, "How do you know that name?"

"Household name," Rosa shrugged. "You'd be hard pressed to find a single person in the Other World that doesn't know her name."

"So, you give me my answers, then what? What's to make sure I hold up my end?"

"We'll take it in turns. You answer one of my questions and I'll answer one of yours."

"You're cunning. You'd have held up well in Veneficus."

"I highly doubt that."

The further Rosa could stay from Veneficus, the better. Even if Annaliese was on a path of goodness, the Queen was still terrifying. But Chronos didn't think so. Eh, Chronos had never been particularly right in the head either.

"Your first question?" Raya asked, waving her hand regally.

"What do you know about that man over there?"