Page 93

My gaze drifts to my panther’s dark form. At least I hope so.

Will he be okay?I ask. I’m holding my breath, terrified of Memnon’s answer.

The sorcerer glances down at me, his eyes no longer glowing. “Ferox didn’t survive the Roman arena and the many battles on the steppe only to be cut down by a few hasty curses. He has your magic running through his veins, sustaining him when his own body cannot. He will be okay, little witch. I swear it.”

The last of my tension leaves me.

I’m holding you to that,est xsaya, I whisper down our bond.

Memnon stiffens at the title, then tightens his hold on me.

It must be incredibly difficult to carry both me and Nero, but Memnon doesn’t complain and doesn’t slow as he moves through the woods.

I stare into the darkness, wondering about the witches who attacked my familiar. Surely the wards activated at curfew would’ve caught their identities.

For a few seconds, I’m hopeful that the coven might be able to deal with these threats all on its own. But then I remember the persecution tunnels running beneath the campus. I doubt they were warded, and it’s likely the witches who attacked Nero used those to get to the woods unnoticed.

In the distance, a forlorn howl goes up, and I remember all over again how the evening started.

The wolves never came. I thought after I heard those earlier howls that they might. Instead, I had to fend off Nero’s attackerson my own, mere hours after the wolves pledged their loyalty. I don’t know why that wounds me. It really shouldn’t. At the end of the day, I am not a shifter, I am a witch, and no amount of friendship changes that.

Memnon enters Last Rites, Henbane’s cemetery. It still bears a few remnants of our Samhain gathering—a melted candle here and there, a few scattered flowers lovingly left on tombstones, an empty potion vial someone left behind.

The sorcerer moves between the headstones, making his way to a particularly large crypt with the phases of the moon carved into its façade.

“What are we doing here?” I ask.

Memnon gives me a curious look. “I thought you would’ve remembered how we used to travel,est amage.”

“By horse?” I say, confounded.

He gives me a secretive smile. “Byley line.”

The dreaded ley line. I almost forgot.

Memnon steps up to the massive crypt and releases his power, forcing the stone doorway to open. The slab swings inward, scraping against the ground as it goes.

Of course the portal entrance onto a ley line couldn’t be out in the open. Of course we have to go inside atombto access it.

While ley lines stretch across the entire world, you can’t open these magical roads just anywhere. There are portals onto them, and almost all these portals are located in sacrosanct places like temples and churches, stone circles and cemeteries.

Memnon moves to enter the crypt.

“Wait,” I caution. “It might be warded.” Then again, it might be too late if Memnon already crossed it once to get here.

“There was a partially disintegrated ward when I arrived,” the sorcerer says, “but I broke what was left of it. There’s nothing else barring our way.”

With that, Memnon carries me and Nero inside. Once we enter, candles light, and they reveal a chamber bare of coffins and urns, bones and plaques. Aside from the candles themselves, there’s nothing in here at all except for a thin column of space that seems to bend the light a little differently. The ley line entrance.

“Have you traveled along one of these in this life?” Memnon asks.

I shake my head against him.

“Then hold on tight.”

I wrap my arms around Memnon’s neck, ignoring the way the movement tugs at my wounds.

“Ready?” he asks.