Page 32 of My Hexed Honeymoon (The Bridgewater Pack #2)
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Mind made up, I tell Elias and Gideon they can either stay back or remain at my side, but I have to get closer to the witches and my mother.
I wish they would’ve chosen to stay back, despite the happy skip in my heart when they looked at each other and then me, only to declare they were coming with me.
While I’m undeniably scarier than usual, I can tell it’s not out of fear but loyalty. Dare I say they might even…like me. “As soon as I get close enough to the witches, you pull back, you hear me?”
They neither confirm nor deny, but I don’t have time to argue, so the three of us begin cutting our path.
And by the three of us, I did mean all three. Gideon and Elias have shifted to their human forms, picking up discarded weapons and proving themselves fierce warriors, but I’m able to hold my own as well.
I still want the loom, because what I can do still feels more like a novelty, but as I let my magic flow through my veins, I’m able to send blasts of energy and make blades to defend against attackers, forgetting until we’re nearly there that I have an actual dagger at my side.
Not to sound like a little kid, but as I glance over my shoulder at how many vampires we took out, I totally want to yell, “Look, I helped!”
But then my mother and I are mere yards apart, the world holding its breath as we face each other.
Andromeda stands at the center of a tangled knot of witches, a few of whom I can tell are continuing to power and keep up the spell that’s casting us in shadows and allowing the vampires to fight during the day.
She also has the Blood Loom clenched tightly in her grip, the blood-coated strings feeding the runes that pulse an ominous red. Several coven members fan out around her, their fingers crackling with magic they’re using to hinder the werewolves and help the vampires.
A cruel smile curves my mother’s lips, stained with a reddish maroon that now matches the macabre tool in her hands. Her eyes glitter with a destructive glee that makes me sick to my stomach. “Natalia, you made it.”
I swallow hard, annoyed it’s loud enough she and my coven sisters can hear it.
Fine, I’m fucking scared. I’d argue that anyone who’s seen the number of deaths she’s caused would be. If I were braver, I would’ve mentioned to Diego that I might’ve been there the night he lost everything—that I wasn’t strong enough to fight for his family back then.
It’s a mistake I won’t make again.
If we both survive this—and I’m doing my best not to give in to my downer thoughts—I can at least promise him that.
My heartbeat slams against my ribcage as if it knows I’m about to do something so incredibly stupid and wants out before that happens. Not super encouraging, but I can’t exactly blame the organ.
I nod to Elias and Gideon, who stand firm and fierce at my side. “Please,” I say. “I’ll be in more danger if I’m too focused on your safety, and like it or not, I will be.”
Ducking their heads like scolded puppies, they whimper as they retreat a few paces—not as much space as I’d like, but we’re both giving in a bit, so I decide not to push the issue.
I sweep my gaze over the battlefield for one last measure of courage, reminding me of what I’m fighting for.
Yes, I’m fighting for the greater good and the safety of the entire world.
But it’s the werewolves who’ve marched into war on my word, this fight will be dedicated to—now I just hope I don’t lose.
And as Diego stands up in half-form and rips a vampire into two so that I can have a chance to retrieve the loom, I no longer find the amalgamation of wolf and human terrifying.
It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, my man who constantly puts himself between me and death.
He’s a whirlwind of vengeance and fury, teeth bared as he rips through another vampire’s shoulder. Sasquatch spins his ax, blackish blood glinting on its blade, while Conall snarls, jaws clamped around a vampire’s middle.
The most important thing right now is that I know they all have my back, just like I know I’ve chosen the right side.
“Did I not say she was special?” Riven asks, squeeing and clapping their hands as if we’re at the matinee. “Try not to die, darling. I’ll be sad to see you go.”
I’m not sure if they’re cheering for me or trying to get in my head, but there will be no dying for me today.
I pull in a sharp breath, willing my threads to calm. The golden strands around me swirl, reinforcing my muscles and bracing for action.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say to my mother, my voice shakier than I’d like but strong enough to be heard by every single witch in attendance.
See , I’m trying to think at them. We can stand up to her. If anyone wants to join me, this is your chance.
“You have power, you have followers,” I continue. “Why do you need the Loom?”
Andromeda laughs, a dry, grating sound. “There’s never enough power or followers, not when other species are physically stronger. Not until no one can ever threaten our existence again.”
“You were the one burning their villages, Mother.”
She scoffs. “I should’ve known you’d find your sense of loyalty the second I married you off to the dogs.”
While I tried to fortify myself with all of the shitty things she’d said and done so I’d be strong enough to stand a chance against her, that stung, a sharp pang in my chest that refused to fade.
I blink at the tears blurring my eyes, telling myself I refuse to be embarrassed over shedding them, just like the many times growing up when she yelled at me for crying. “Why marry me off to produce an heir if you were just going to make a deal with the vampires?”
“Because I didn’t have the loom.”
I flinch, jaw locking. “But you tied Kerrigan's life to my conceiving.”
Andromeda shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t care if the veterinarian lives or dies.
I just knew the second you had a werewolf pup in your belly, you’d be able to gain entry to the Hollow—Riven was the one who assured me we could convince you to access it sooner that night in the forest after your wedding.
I struck my deal with them then, as the Blood Loom was always the goal. ”
My mother hugs it tighter to her chest, and I tell myself that’s not jealousy churning in my gut. Is it weird to think it’s at least better than fear?
At the wave of her hand, Riven and the rest of the witches back away, much like my two wolves did, and Andromeda lowers her voice.
“The vampires think it’s theirs, but they’re wrong.
And once they defeat the wolves”—this time she dips even quieter than a whisper, until it’s really more about reading her lips.
I’ll use it to control them. It was made by a witch for a witch. ”
“It was made for a Realmweaver—made for me.”
Andromeda tilts her head, letting me know she noticed my words had come out with a bite. “Ah, so you do feel the pull. You just might be my daughter after all.”
I stop thinking and reacting to her barbs and go on the attack. I whip up my hands, golden threads erupting from my palms and slamming into Andromeda’s face like a huge fist.
Her head wrenches back, and she stumbles a few feet, visibly stunned by my powers and the fact that I’d dare use them on her.
Not gonna lie, that was tremendously satisfying.
She wipes the blood that trickles from her nose, feeding it to the loom as we circle each other. Gripping the bone handles over the carved runes, she utters an incantation and raises a hand that glows green.
I brace myself the best I can as a wave of power slams into my chest, strong enough to send me sprawling across grass and soil.
Blood curses are one of my mother’s specialties, and I definitely felt the supercharged punch of the loom.
I should’ve realized before that’s another reason she’d be drawn to that particular weapon.
I bet it’s how she sent out that blast that froze so many werewolves at once, manipulating their blood and combining it with a binding hex strengthened by the shared focus of the other witches.
“It’ll never be enough, no matter how much power you gain,” I say as I push to my feet, well aware I’m wasting my breath but unable to help myself anyway—she is my mother after all, regardless of rarely ever acting like one.
“You don’t have to do this. Hand over the Blood Loom, and we can continue on with the alliance we made with my marriage. ”
“Spoken like the weakling you are,” Andromeda says. “You can’t see the big picture—you never could.”
“I’m not weak,” I spit, straightening to my full height and lifting my chin. “I just never wanted to become like you—a witch supremacist who’s willing to murder children in their beds. Someone who uses cruelty and calls it power.”
Andromeda simply raises an eyebrow, the pursing of her lips conveying her habitual disappointment. “That’s why you’ll always fail. Magic isn’t meant for the meek.”
As if to prove her point, she slices her palm with a small but wicked-looking dagger. She lets the loom drink it in, then hurls a whip of something at me.
Her blood, I realize as it slices into my shoulder, leaving a puncture wound of pain that immediately blooms red.
She’s using her blood the way I do my lifeforce, forming it into a weapon.
Shit. How am I ever going to defeat her when she has the tool I need in her possession?
You’re going to have to take it back.
Gritting my teeth with resolve, I snarl and swing a chain of braided threads in return, forming another kusarigama and launching the scythe at her torso.
Andromeda dodges, the blade just kissing her gut. It sends her into the cluster of witches with their faces turned to the sky, and for a moment, the tiniest sips of sunlight leak through.
Vampires hiss and yelp in pain around us, allowing the werewolves a fraction of a second to get in an unguarded hit before it’s dark once again.