All Just Glass - Amelia Atwater-Rhodes [13]
“She is surrounded by witches waiting for some fool to step in to pick her up,” Kaleo said. “I’m not about to be the only fool there. As for why you should help, if Heather hadn’t distracted the hunters, they would have taken Nissa instead. And finally, I was in the same place you were: not in SingleEarth, where I am very much not welcome, and not policing my people in a place where they are supposed to be safe from exactly this kind of assault. Since when has that rule changed?”
Both brothers answered the question by looking to Sarah for explanation. “Sarah?” Kristopher asked.
“SingleEarth’s autonomy is a high law among all witch-kin—”
“Which is why I was a little surprised they seem to be ignoring it,” Kaleo interjected.
Sarah stepped back. It didn’t make any sense … but Caryn had acted like it did. My mother says if I cross them, it could endanger everyone at SingleEarth. “Oh, goddess,” Sarah whispered as the answer struck her like lightning. Her stomach plummeted. Her chest constricted.
“Sarah?”
She wasn’t sure who had spoken. She felt blind. But she remembered the ancient words she had spent many hours studying as a child. A Vida was only given a true blade, crafted by the witches of old and imbued with generations of power, after she had recited and then sworn to all the laws of their line. She could have said the words in her sleep, but the only law applicable in that moment was so ancient she would never have thought anyone would invoke it.
When witch-kin is slain, there shall be no safe haven, no higher law to protect the guilty. Every hunter shall turn her blade to the task, and there shall be no rest until those responsible have been slain.
The Rights of Kin hadn’t been called upon since the death of Smoke Madder, thousands of years earlier. The conflict had led to the schism that split the witches into separate lines for the first time, with some obeying the Rights and some swearing a vow of nonviolence and giving up the title of hunter for themselves and all their descendants.
Hunters’ deaths were avenged when they could be, but most of the time it was simply accepted that hunters eventually lost their lives, usually to their prey. No one had called on the Rights when the Light line had been extinguished three centuries before, and the Vida line had nearly been forced to the same fate. No one had called on the Rights when Nikolas and Kristopher had killed Elisabeth Vida in the 1850s, or when Zachary’s sister Jacqueline had been slaughtered, or when Sarah’s father had been bled and dumped on their front step.
Sarah was sitting. When had she sat down?
Kristopher was by her side. Nikolas was still standing close to Kaleo, defensive, and Christine was hovering in the doorway at the opposite side of the room. Her face was tight with fear, but she stood solid, eyes only occasionally flickering back to Kaleo from Sarah.
Sarah recognized the posture. It was loyalty that held her when terror made her want to run. It had to be hard for her to stay in the same room with Kaleo, but she did it anyway.
Sarah wanted to say to her, Just run. Loyalty isn’t worth so much sometimes.
“The Rights of Kin are ancient, ancient Vida law,” Sarah said. “Older than the other lines’ existences. Older than any living vampires, or recorded civilization, for that matter. They were passed down verbally for centuries, because humanity hadn’t yet invented written language.”
“Get to the point,” Kaleo growled.
“Back off!” Kristopher shouted. “Can’t you see she’s in shock?”
Sarah shook herself. She wasn’t in shock; a daughter of Vida didn’t have that luxury. She pushed herself to her feet.
“The Rights of Kin can be called upon by any descendant of Macht—any Vida, Smoke, Arun or Marinitch witch—when their kin is slain. The law requires any other child of Macht to set aside all allegiances and obligations to assist with hunting down the killer. The healers don’t have to fight, but they