Page 43 of The Sirin Sisterhood (The Sons of Echidna #2)

Lucy

The air vibrated with potent excitement as every student gathered by theforest’sedge, peering into the dark spaces between the ancient tree trunks.

Lucy held her breath and looked around, unsure of why they had been woken up before sunrise.

She spotted Freya, far ahead of her and the congregation of witches, dressed in a spectacular gown embroidered from hem to collar with firebirds in mid-flight. As the sun rose over the clearing, each stitch glowed.

Lucy yawned, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders. She was still barefoot, her toes damp from the morning. No one had told her to dress up nicely for whatever was happening. Klein was just as under-dressed, shivering in a cotton robe that he wore over his shirt.

Lai was in the shirt Freya made for him, brushed and looking fresh and ready.

He’dsat down with scissors at some point and had trimmed the wild ends of his hair into something that, against all odds, looked incredibly deliberate and fashionable.

Bastard. Lucy made a note to rip into him later, but the thought was lost as sudden, fresh fear swept over her.

Something was coming. She felt it in her numb fingertips. She flexed her fingers, examining the strings of life all around her, and they all thrummed with the same terror she felt.

Something dark reached back. Something ancient.

It crawled across the golden threads like black oil dripping over a harp.

It sent chills downLucy’sspine, triggering her fight-or-flight instinct, but shedidn’tflee.

She wanted to, but she was paralyzed by fear, rooted in place as the trees in the forest parted for a creature that made the ground tremble with each step.

No. Not a creature.

A house.

“No fucking way.”Klein exhaled over her shoulder, and Lucy instinctively leaned back into him. He rarely swore, but if ever there was a reason to...

Calling it a house was like calling a tiger a kitten.

The roof was made of human shoulder blades, each piece of sun-bleached bone stacked like shingles.

The ancient, gray, cracked wooden walls were smothered in lichen, and instead of glass, the windows were made of a foul, flesh-colored, stretched membrane that vibrated grotesquely with each step the house took.

Yes, steps, Lucy realized, as she stared in fascinated horror.

The enormous, evil structure sat on top of two pale, featherless bird legs, each toe with talons longer than her arm.

“What is that thing?”Lucy asked, as a girl with long auburn hair and an arrogant face sharply shushed her.

“ Baba Yaga ,”she hissed, twisting her fingers to her temple, no doubt a rude gesture.“ Tiho! ”

Lucy could guess the meaning. She needed to stay quiet and join in the reverence the others were showing.

Looking around, she noticed that no one, aside from Agata and Sabira, was looking up at the monstrous house.

The other witches, Freya included, stood with their heads lowered and eyes fixed firmly on the ground.

Some of them moved their lips, singing a silent song.

“Turn your back on the forest!”Agata ordered the house.

“Turn to face us.”Sabira finished, quieter but still full of power.

Both women bowed as the house creaked and slowly turned. The door to the shack was hidden at the back, presented only when the uglybird’sfeet dug deep into the soft soil and lowered themselves down, down, down until they were hidden entirely inside the foundation and the dirt below.

Once settled, it looked–and felt–as though the house had always been there, dappled with shadows from the woods in defiance of the daylight, untouched by the warmth and comfort of the sun.

The door hinges screeched, making a few of the students flinch. Lucy watched, holding her breath, ignoring the girl next to her attempting to force her head down.

A woman appeared in the doorway. Her small, frail frame was hunched over, leaning heavily onto a wooden broom.

She had a twisted face covered in deep wrinkles, more wrinkles than Lucy had ever seen on any one person before.

Shedidn’tknow what she had expected, but itwasn’tsomeone’sgrandmother.

Was she another witch? The respect shown by the coven suggested as much.

Theold womanchuckled as she climbed down the steps of her porch, each movement slow and careful, her decrepit joints barely bending.

She groaned, reaching the grass after a good minute of effort.

No one had stepped forward to help her, and she grumbled a little before a wide smile stretched over her face.

“Ah, a new bird has come to claim her wings.”

Freya finally looked up to meet her eyes. Even from how far away she was, Lucy could see the girl trembling.

“Are you ready to stake your name?”The ancient witch asked, looking Freya over and smacking her sunken lips together.

Stake her name?

Lucy frowned as she suddenly realized that she understood every word theold womansaid. Or rather, not saying. Startled, Lucy saw that the witchdidn’tmove her mouth to speak. Her words echoed inLucy’shead.

Even though she could hear her well enough, Lucy needed to get closer. Her curiosity guided her to the front of the crowd despite the angry whispering around her.

“Baba.”Freya knelt to one knee, bowing to the woman in reverence

Lucy saw thewoman’sopen mouth for the first time, full of crooked and broken teeth, rows and rows of them. She shuddered. The sight reminded her of lampreys at the museum, floating in formaldehyde, lifelessly frozen against the glass with their horrific mouths waiting for prey, even in death.

The hag laughed as she reached inside her own throat and produced a needle, almost a finger long, with a tip that glowed as red as one of Klein orLai’scigarettes.

“If you want to lead your sisters, stake your name. Pass the trials and regain it with honor. Fail and join nameless spirits bound to me.”

Freya looked up, her lips moving soundlessly. It took her a few tries to finally utter her name.

“Freya,”she whispered as the needle glowed brighter.

The trial was to lead the sisterhood. The ancient witch had said so herself, that was why the stakes were so high.Lucy’seyes widened as she understood.

If she entered the trial and passed, she would be one of the leaders of the sisterhood. Even if theywouldn’tallow her to lead, they would have to listen to her; she would have earned it. This was her chance to seize onto a Plan B.

Shedidn’tthink about what it would mean for her if she failed.

Shedidn’tthink about what it would mean for Freya, who had been preparing for this for so long, who wouldsurelybe humiliated by an upstart outsider with no control hitching onto her coattails.

All she saw was a way to save her family. And she really was a Galanos: selfish, self-absorbed, and egotistical.

“Lucille!”The woman cried out, offering her own name.

The silent crowd remained motionless, but the tension could have been cut with a knife.

Freya looked humiliated and confused, twisting to see Lucy in the crowd, while her two sisters looked murderous, their faces as dark as thunder.

Only Lucy and the crone watched the needle as the tip grew brighter still, the offering accepted.