Page 2 of Brave Spirit (Bound Spirit #6)

Callie

T he clouds break, and the first rays of warm sunlight hit the scorched earth that once held vibrant life.

Mr. Mischief, who finds a spot near a tree that escaped the circle that was sacrificed to save Nolan, yawns while doing a deep stretch, and then he flops onto a pile of fallen leaves.

He’s big, even for Maine coon standards, with wild, solid black fur… or at least he is in this form.

Wiping my brow with the back of my wrist, I scowl at the cat who is in fact not a cat, but a fae being who has yet to explain himself.

“You know, if you’re going to follow us around, the least you could do is turn into a lion or something and help us dig.

” I nod toward Rand, who appears excited to assist, using his big, wolfy claws to make the holes we need for the young plants that were donated by Mei’s parents. “See? He’s helping.”

Mr. Mischief cracks his vibrant yellow eyes open, blinks once, yawns again, and then goes back to relaxing. I guess his job starts and ends at protecting me from perceived threats, or at least that’s what I’m assuming. It’s hard to tell when he hasn’t shifted into a form that can talk.

Mei sighs as she uses her foot to push her shovel into the dirt. “Explain to me again why we’re digging these holes by hand instead of doing it with magic?”

“It’s important to connect with the earth through hard labor,” Mei’s mother, Abbie, answers from the other side of the dead circle.

She gently extracts one of the saplings from its plastic pot, works the roots until they are loose, then plants it into one of our previously dug holes.

“It builds respect for the life that feeds us, and it’s our responsibility to care for it. ”

“It’s not like it’s our fault that Gina’s curse was a life-sucking, sludge monster and the only way to save Nolan was to sacrifice a bunch of plant life for it to eat and then eventually starve to death,” Mei grumbles in her usual rapid-fire manner of speech.

She hefts a shovel full of dirt out of the ground by leveraging most of her body weight against the long wooden handle.

“This area is also a dead zone of magic,” Carlotta, my grandmother on my father’s side, adds as she pricks her finger with what looks like some type of ceremonial dagger—if all the filigree and precious stones are any indication.

She swishes her bloody finger into a large barrel of water.

“The creature consumed all the magic within the circle. We have to replenish it before the earth will hear your call.”

“Wait, that’s something that can happen?

” I squawk, quickly looking up from the hole I’m digging.

“I knew the plants died, but the earth too? It’s possible to have a space completely devoid of magic?

Does that mean if a witch is in one of these dead zones, then they are completely helpless?

” A panicked flutter beats in my chest. Memories of when I was powerless as my father tortured me push to the surface of my mind.

I’ve grown reliant on my magic and the safety it provides, even if I don’t always have control over it.

My nan from my mother’s side, Mildred, glares at Carlotta before answering me.

“No, we’re not helpless.” She takes the dagger from my grandmother and wipes the blade with a handkerchief doused in rubbing alcohol before following suit by pricking her finger and swishing the blood into the water.

“Every living being has magic that flows within them, as you know. You may not be able to reach out to the elements, but in dire times, you can use the magic inside you.”

Mei’s mom, Xiù, smiles kindly at me as she finishes up with one of the saplings. “That’s what we’re doing now, using the magic inside us through the conduit of blood, as well as these young plants, to reintroduce magic into the land that’s currently cut off from the fount of the goddess.”

I frown, looking down at my dirty, raw hands that have seen very little hard labor. “If magic is what we need, then wouldn’t my blood be the best to use?”

“No!” Mildred and Carlotta shout simultaneously before softening their panicked expressions.

With a tight smile, my nan further explains in her clipped British accent. “Your blood is very… potent, which can be unpredictable when used as an agent in spellcasting.”

“Especially for an area as small as this,” Carlotta adds with a dismissive wave of her hand, as if a magic dead zone the size of half a basketball court is a simple problem to solve.

Mei tilts her head while leaning against her shovel, her long, black hair spilling over her shoulder from her high ponytail. “So how bad would it have to be before we’d need Callie’s blood?”

The two women despise each other, but my grandmothers are still able to communicate with just a look, telegraphing questions and answers through their concerned brown eyes— not that what they are thinking is hard to translate.

They are deciding how much to reveal about me, despite the fact that my cover has long been blown since I went all I’m the avatar of the goddess warrior witch mode on Neva and Gina, ripping away their connection to magic.

The coven was sworn to silence, but it hasn’t stopped members from being really weird and twitchy around me.

The question hangs way too long in the air. Mei’s parents flash warning glances at their beloved spawn, feeling the weight of knowledge that has been kept secret for a reason. My bestie refuses to budge. She’s not one to back down due to pleasantries.

Mr. Mischief opens his eyes and drags himself from his comfy leaf pile to sit at my feet, giving away that he’s been paying attention this whole time. He licks his paw and runs it over his head, dislodging some bits of leaves that cling to his fur. Clearly he isn’t on high alert.

Rand continues his digging spree, the only sound in the clearing being the scrape of his claws against the packed earth.

If he’s listening, he isn’t making any indication of it.

He knows what I am, but it seems to matter little to him.

I’m his alpha’s mate and the witch sworn to watch over our pack.

The fact that I’m one of the most powerful witches born in a couple millennia only appears to be icing on the proverbial cake.

Plunging my shovel into the dirt, I reach up to rub my brow with frayed patience.

It’s only after I feel the grit of dirt on my skin when I remember that my hands are filthy.

This does nothing to help my mood. There’s a weight inside me that I’m so tired of carrying, the heaviness of secrets that are parceled out in cryptic pieces in the name of my safety. It all seems moot by this point anyway.

“Everyone here already knows what I am,” I state bluntly, my shoulders sagging under my growing exhaustion. “Why try to keep this a secret?”

“There are degrees of understanding of what you are,” my nan answers, her tone trying to caution about listening ears while also soothing my irritation.

Carlotta glares at Mr. Mischief as she adds in a heavy Spanish accent, “And some have yet to prove they can be trusted.”

Mr. Mischief stretches out his front legs, his sharp claws extending beyond his fluffy paws. The distrust clearly goes both ways.

A reckless part of me wants to find out for myself by using a drop of my blood with a spell and seeing what happens. However, with my questionable luck, I’d blow up the town and take the surrounding forest with it.

“Will you tell me at home?” I ask as a way of compromise.

“Yes, darling,” Mildred answers, clearly relieved and ready to move on.

After what feels like the millionth hole is dug and all the young plants have been lovingly placed in their new homes, Rand and Mr. Mischief sit off to the side while the rest of us position ourselves equally distant around the dead circle.

I’m nervous and excited for the next stage.

Part of being a witch is having the connection with and community of other witches.

Performing grand feats of magic requires multiple witches working together, except for me.

All the magic I’ve done has been on my own, and most of the time, I’m winging it—intentionally or not—until today.

I’m part of the circle, part of the ritual, and I’m learning about magic the way other witches do.

I’m standing between my grandmothers across from Mei, who stands between her parents.

She flashes me a quick thumbs-up before giving herself a little shake, closing her eyes, and raising her arms out from her sides with her palms facing the dirt.

Abbie winks at me, flashes a smile at her wife, then falls into the same pose as if she’s done it thousands of times.

Xiù wears a gentle expression as she looks at her wife and child, one of peace and love, before she slowly closes her eyes and takes the position.

There always seems to be an inner contentment to her, a never dimming glow of love that could last the ages of time.

When I think of the goddess, I often imagine she’s a lot like Mei’s mom—strong, capable, and filled with a gentle compassion for all the lives she touches.

Mildred interrupts my musings with last-minute instructions for the spell.

“Remember, let the chant guide your intentions. Feel for the fledgling life planted in the soil and visualize the magic that will blanket the surface of the earth. Weave your magic with your fellow witches’ power and then push that magic deep into the ground.

Feed the young roots until they are as hearty and strong as the great fir trees at our backs. ”

As a spirit witch, I have access to all elements of magic, but Mildred, a fire and air witch, does not. Prepared to look like an idiot, I ask, “If this is earth magic, how do… uh, non-earth witches help with these kinds of spells?”

An amused smile twitches on my nan’s face. “You’ll see.”