Page 90 of The Unbound Witch

The wheels of my mind turned as I thought about the unbinding of my power when the death spell was forced upon me. Maybe this was death’s curse. It would be the easy answer. But I didn’t think that was it.

Six witches cast upon me that night under the power of the blood moon, covering all seven covens. When I was saved from the Harrowing, all covens were present, including Bastian in the shadows, holding the Moon Coven Grimoire. There was a connection there, I knew it.

Peeking over my shoulder, I heard the hushed voices of the group outside arguing over what to do with me. As if they had a choice over my fate. While they were distracted, I dropped to my knees, studying the towers of terracotta pots below. I didn’t need to guess. I knew exactly where the Moss Coven Grimoire was. Setting the top pot to the side, I reached in and pulled out the relic. The magic pulsing from this book was far more subtle than the Storm Coven. Which made sense. It’d been without magic for a very long time. The real question was, why was I tied to it?

Moving my hand down the grooves of the spine, I checked over my shoulder one final time before opening the fragile pages of the Grimoire and thumbing through. Right now, it wasn’t about the sheets filled with family trees, dates of births and deaths, records of spells and markings. It wasn’t about the added pages and notes in the spine drafted with ink that was now fading; it was about the power, the words that seeped into the air like a whisper.

“We are,” it seemed to say, so faintly I wasn’t sure those were the correct words.

“We are what?” I whispered back, flipping another page.

A commotion in the front of the shop pulled me from the conundrum of the Grimoires. I stashed the book back into the pot and covered it, dabbing the cloth to my nose again to make sure the bleeding had stopped before I stepped out.

Bastian had taken his true form and, though he locked eyes with me, he did not push or shove himself into the space he knew I needed. The tension was already tough and, as Crow picked up the pieces of broken glass from the floor, apologizing for his clumsiness, I forced myself to remember that everyone here was fighting their own battle, and, though it felt like it, I was not alone.

I didn’t need to tell them about my theory of being connected to the Grimoires yet. Not until I was absolutely sure. Adding more to the pile of shit we were in was exactly the opposite of what everyone needed.

“Okay?” Torryn asked, sidling up next to me, his giant presence calming.

“Okay,” I whispered, sharing a smile.

“I think giving up the alcohol may be better than trying to make your own,” Eden said, pinching her nose as she used a cloth to soak up whatever Crow had spilled.

“I’m a human stuck in a world of magical creatures. I can’t sail home without a ship and crew, and I can’t stay here without my rum. What would you have me do?”

The old captain's usual smile was gone as the stress and strain in his voice shone through.

“It won’t be this way forever,” Bastian said, leaning down to help pick up the glass. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you some wine.”

“It’s for the nerves,” the captain answered. “I don’t want to leave. I just want to feel something normal.”

“Fair enough,” the Dark King answered.

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” Torryn said, slipping into the Fire Coven’s door.

Eden sat heavily on a wooden stool near the counter, swirling a spoon in her tea. “I wish I knew what normal felt like.”

Her dark and light hair caught in the sunlight pouring into the window as a shadow passed over her face. I hadn’t taken the time to wonder how she must feel. Every moment of her life had revolved around sacrifice and small pleasures. I wondered what her life would look like in a year. In five. Once we hunted the coven leaders and forced them to see reason or resign their positions.

“Oh good, you’re here.” Kirsi’s voice was like home to me.

Seeing her, even in wraith form, slip into the cottage with Atlas directly behind her, brought me a comfort I didn’t know I needed. Bastian was everything in the world, but that didn’t take away from my friendship with Kir and how selfishly I coveted our bond.

It wasn’t until Nym stepped through, two familiar kittens on her heels, that I realized something had gone wrong.

“Explain,” Bastian said, staring down at the witch. His anger was not with her, but she couldn’t have known that.

Nym lowered her chin before curtsying. “I’m sorry to say that Nonet has died, Your Grace.”

The fury in his voice faltered. “What happened?”

“Ophelia killed Nonet and used her blood to break the barrier. The man that was there with her died as well, but I didn’t know his name.”

“Alec,” Torryn said quietly. “His name was Alec.”

Eden gasped, crossing the room to wrap her arm around him in a hug. “I’m so sorry, Tor. I know how much he meant to you.”

Torryn turned, facing away from the group of us for a moment as he collected himself. My heart broke for him. When would the dying stop?