Page 111 of The Unbound Witch

I couldn’t see him. He was there, right there, somewhere, and I couldn’t see him.

Surging high above the water again, I did another sweep, listening. Not a sound this time, but two stunning light blue eyes met mine. He was vertical and sinking, already beneath the surface, arm reaching for me, his beautiful face disappearing as the fight began to leave him.

I dove.

Never in my life had I prayed to the goddess as hard as I did in that moment, wishing for time to slow, for the fucking ocean to recede. Something, anything, to save him. Slipping into the water, I concentrated as hard as I could as I wrapped my arms around his, our chests pressed together as I pulled against the drag of the isle below us, begging and pleading to get him a breath.

He wiggled. Just enough for me to know there was still life within him as I hauled him upright out of the water, his long body covered in mud. But it was not the wolf that terrified me in that split second. Not his lack of fight. He’d be okay. He had to be okay. Instead, it was Torryn. The strix looked like he’d been half beaten to death, feathers missing, his beautiful tail half gone, with a single talon wrapped around the muddy tail of the wolf.

He slipped. Only inches, but enough to know I could not haul them both to shore, still miles away. Atlas’ whimper in my ear spoke more than words. He feared the same. The life of his friend was slipping away. A spell struck Atlas in the stomach. He flinched as I moved and Tor fell several more inches, mostly limp and hanging upside down, but still holding on.

Another spell. A yelp. And then he was gone. Falling and falling back into the ocean.

“Torryn,” I yelled, diving, though I knew I couldn’t catch him. Not without dropping Atlas.

These witches deserved to die. Every last one of them that had somehow managed to survive the fall. They were not the saviors of our future. They were not going to be swayed to peace. They were simply the ruination of it all.

I couldn’t look down. Couldn’t see that powerful man hit the water and leave this world behind. Couldn’t look into Atlas’ face and see the strike of pain as his friend was lost to us all. But black wings descended. Bash dove, flying through the air faster than I’d ever known possible, crashing into Torryn with outstretched arms, the billowing of shadows below. And then he climbed and climbed until we were side by side. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t look down to the limp birdlike body in his arms. He simply tore off toward the horizon on a prayer.

44

RAVEN

They didn’t use the magical doors. Too afraid to have power anywhere near the books, Bastian and Kirsi dropped out of the sky, landed in the back garden, and kicked the door down in a fury. Kir dropped Atlas onto the blankets laid out on the floor. Though not wet, he was completely covered in dirt.

Bastian, though? He stormed across the shop, sweeping a hand over the counter to throw the dishes to the floor before laying a beautiful limp bird upon the stone. The sound of the glass clattering to the floor, some breaking, some not, shot a pain through my mind. I spun, grabbing my temple as if it would save me. Thankfully, my nose did not bleed this time.

“What happened?” Eden swiped a hand over Tor’s face.

Bastian brought a fist to his mouth as he took two steps backward, shaking his head. “We have no idea. Witches were casting, they were drowning, he was attacked by someone… it’s hard to say.”

“Magic,” Atlas said, limping toward us, holding his side. Blood seeped through his fingers, mud caked his hair, and the scar on his face could hardly be discerned through the other scratches on him. “A fuck ton of magic all at once. I jumped in the water, saw all the witches attacking him. I tried to get him, Bash. I swear I did.”

Eden reached her hand forward, hesitated for a second, and pulled it away. “Get the Whisper Coven Grimoire out of here, right now.” She crossed the room, snatching the book I’d left on the counter, and placed it into Bastian’s arms. “Take it to wherever you’ve taken the other books.”

He barely registered her words. Had hardly moved, unable to take his eyes from Tor.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Feel him,” she said, jutting her chin toward the shifter. “He’s got so many spells cast over him they’re fighting to complete. One goes off, this whole place is dust.”

The moment sank into my bones like an anvil. Glancing over the back wall of the shop, I gulped down my fear as I turned to the Dark King.

“Bastian,” I said, bringing a palm to his cheek to turn him toward me. “Please. Take the Grimoire to the castle. We can help him, but you need to go. Right now. We can’t have it near the Moss Grimoire.”

He clutched the book in his hand and stumbled backward in shock. But absolute rage would follow and Goddess help whoever crossed paths with him when that happened. He stepped numbly toward the door with the flame on top.

“He better be alive when I get back,” he whispered, then tore off through the door.

It was not a threat. Not a command from a king. Simply a prayer.

“Atlas?” Eden looked down at his wound with an eyebrow raised.

He nodded and she cast, stopping the bleeding from the gash in his head as well as his side. He didn’t slump in relief though, only inched his way toward Torryn.

“What’s the plan?” Eden asked, running her fingers over several glass vials on the back shelf. “Seeds of life won’t do a thing for him. Black tourmaline might help ground him if the magic—”

“Eden,” I whispered, taking her hand, though my heart was breaking. “None of these things are going to save him.”