Page 103 of The Unbound Witch
Coppery hair was my only target as I tried to push through, curious if he would say anything else. Anything that might mean I didn’t need to continue following them.
“You’re on your own, Theodore. I’m not messing with a spirit blessed witch today,” the short woman beside him said. “Last time we went poking around Emeril’s cottage, that fucking bear came out.”
“She hasn’t got a familiar with her. Just the wraith. She hit the detection barrier.”
“And the shifter,” another said. “Probably a Fire Coven bitch.”
Giving up all hope of finding the coven leaders, I followed them closely enough to see which direction they were headed. My heart raced as I avoided all eyes and hustled along, confident everyone was looking at me. They missednothinghere and everyone was an enemy. Even their own.
As the line of trees loomed closer, I realized I couldn’t follow them over the edge of the wall without them noticing. Panic set in. I wished I could make myself invisible, like Kir.
They turned though, following a different path away from the edge, but the swarm of witches had also grown thinner. In another fifty paces, it would be obvious I was following them. A thrum of power pulsed through me as I realized they were moving directly toward the Grimoires. Wondering if the others had already been captured, I raced forward, passing the copper haired man as I surged toward the books.
A low, continuous whistle rang through the air as I approached a building unlike any I’d ever seen. Not a cottage, but something made of stone. The doors were merely open archways behind a magical barrier. A circular tube of stone surrounded the building. As the wind filled the holes at the top of the tube, it pushed through, creating the sound I’d heard.
This wasn’t a store or a home. It wasn’t a gathering place or a place of power. It was a temple. A place to guard the Grimoires. I paused, wondering how strong the barricade might be. Mirroring a few of the crowd passing by, I blocked my hand from the sun rising in the sky and peeked inside, searching for my friends. The inside of the stone building was cloaked in shadow.
I gazed over the scattered crowd, eyes landing on the copper hair I’d followed across the isle. He had turned and was nearly out of sight. I made a mental note of exactly where the Grimoires were and continued on, confident he would lead me to Kirsi. Until I rounded the corner of the temple and realized no one here had been instructed not to cast. No one whispered of it, no one so much as hinted there were books here.
Alarms rang in my head as I started to back away, realizing just how dangerous this place truly was right now. I should scream. I should warn everyone. But I couldn’t manage a single sound as two familiar witches came around the backside of that stone building. Endora’s long, silver hair swept to her knees as she used her cane to strike Dasha across the face. Dasha fell to the ground, holding a hand out, trying to block Endora’s ruthless attack.
“Oh fuck,” I whispered, backing into someone by accident.
I pulled my hood up, hiding my face as I apologized and tried to move backward. But I couldn’t concentrate on anything. Not as Endora threw a knife and Dasha cast to block it.
A ripple of pure, raw magic exploded through the air in a tidal wave of destruction. It had only been a small spell, something to push the knife away, but it didn’t matter. The second that wave of power billowed out, throwing every witch within the vicinity away, I jolted. Realizing I had been the only one not affected.
But then the ground rumbled, the world tilted to the side, witches began screaming and I realized… the fucking isle was falling out of the sky. Not a racing plummet, but we’d hit the ocean soon enough.
Chaos ensued. Witches poured from everywhere. The only thing I could think of as I stared down at Dasha’s dead body was the Grimoires. Endora must have had the same thought as she scrambled to her feet, caught my eye, stumbled back for a second and then ran.
The surge of power had shattered the barrier surrounding the stone building. I shoved past the old witch, confident she wouldn’t catch up, praying she wouldn’t be foolish enough to cast again. Something about my connection to the books had saved me once, but I doubt it would again.
As I ran into the building, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, two witches lay dead on the floor. They’d been too close. Endora screamed behind me; her arms outstretched as if she meant to cast.
“Do it and you’ll die,” I warned.
“Are you so familiar with death that you can predict it? Have you taken it as a lover now that your precious king is gone?”
“I’m not playing this game with you.” I raced for the closest book and snatched it from the golden pillar it sat upon.
“Games, Trials, balls, funerals … Nothing matters without magic, but then … my sweet daughter has returned, hasn’t she? So will my depth of power.”
I lunged for the other book, but again the isle swayed, and I crashed to the ground, sliding across the floor. Endora screamed behind me, the maniacal sound raking down my senses as I turned to see her bony, old fingers close around the second Grimoire and run for the door. The Fire Coven book.
I crawled toward the other side, eager to get out the door, to save myself from crashing into the ocean. Again, the isle tilted and a loud crack shook through me. I looked up, saw the ceiling crumbling, and my heart stopped. A rush of absolute adrenaline poured over me as I fought like hell to scramble over the broken stone floor and surge out the door.
I fell just outside the building, the Whisper Coven book clutched in my arms as the world tilted again. Witches fell over the edge of the isle, sliding down pathways, as houses crumbled. A large isle above me dropped several feet in the air, eliciting a chorus of screaming. The entire coven territory was falling. Magic could be seen in the distance, and I was so grateful the original blast of power had pushed most of the witches far away from me. Especially when Endora’s bony fingers wrapped around my wrist, digging in, nails breaking the skin as she scrambled for the second book.
I fought back, pushing to my feet, and leaning as far forward as I could to stay upright. But Endora had another knife in her hands. Knowing she couldn’t cast, she still intended to kill me, just as she had Dasha. She held that blade to my throat, smiling as if she’d just won her own freedom.
“The book for your life, girl. Choose wisely.”
The ground fractured below me as two towering figures dropped from the sky behind her. My saving grace. Bastian. Not Grey, but my Dark King stood with his expansive raven wings as far as they would reach, shoulders heaving, eyes locked on the knife.
But Tor? His face was no less menacing. No less a promise of death as he stormed forward and yanked the knife out of Endora’s withered hand before she could even consider using it. A marking on her collarbone ignited.
I sucked in a breath and yelled. “Run!”