Page 91 of The Unbound Witch

“We have to go to the River Coven,” Atlas said, pulling the eyes away from his friend, so Torryn could have his moment. “We’ve heard from a wraith that might be able to get us some answers on the Harrowing, but she’s requested… some things. There’s a waterfall we need to get to.”

“I can move the door if you know where it is,” Bastian offered.

“It’s just past Cauldron’s Bluff.”

“That’s too close to the swamps. They’ll see you.”

Kirsi moved forward. “I’ll go in alone. Invisible.”

“Not a chance, Ghosty. You don’t know where you’re going, and those swamp witches have all kinds of spells and traps. It’s not safe.”

“We also have to go to River.” I moved to Bastian’s side, pressing a hand to his forearm, hoping he’d feel my apology in the gesture. I wasn’t making this process easy on him. “Can I see your map?”

Bastian cast a door to the cabin, left, and returned within a minute. He slid the long canvas along the counter. We all circled around, even the familiars. Scoop remained glued to Talon’s feet, and Kirsi watched him sadly as he chose another witch.

As everyone else looked over the map, focusing on the River Coven, I leaned down, picked up the tiny black panther and walked around the counter, stroking him behind the ear. I’d asked for the map for their sake, not my own.

I knew exactly where we needed to go, able to feel the pull to the seven Grimoires like a thrum of tightly woven string in my mind. Each book had a different pluck, a different pitch of the same thread. There were not only seven Grimoires calling me, though. There were eight notes of temptation and importance. The eighth being the most curious and most continuous pulsing. Like a heartbeat in the middle of our kingdom. The black castle ruins.

“I could drop you here,” Bastian said, pointing. “You’d have to cross over this river, but you could get in the back way and have less trouble.”

“No. Then we’d have to climb the bluff straight on.”

“Not if I float up to the top, get the stone and come meet you.”

Atlas narrowed his eyes at Kirsi, dropping his chin. “I’m telling you it’s not safe for anyone to be in the swamp alone at any time. We have to go together. We have tostaytogether.” He turned back to the map, tracing careful details as I leaned over, watching him. “We need to be right here. It’s the only way we avoid most of the swamp but circle around and drop down the waterfall.”

“That’s near the gathering place for the River witches,” Bastian warned. “You’ll have to be careful.”

“Got it. Reckless all other times, careful this one. Piece of cake.”

Bastian punched him in the arm. “Don’t be a smart ass. All in. All out.”

“I think we should leave Scoop here,” Nym said quietly.

“Agreed,” Kirsi said, moving toward the feline in my arms. “He’s not going to be safe out there.”

“I’ll look after the little guy,” Crow offered, reaching his hands toward me with the brightest eyes I’d ever seen from him. “Come to old pappy now.”

“Old pappy?” I asked, handing Scoop over.

“He’s not a fan of strangers,” Kirsi and I said at the same time.

But Scoop curled himself into a ball, right in the captain's arms, rubbed his ear against the leather vest he wore and promptly fell asleep.

“He knows his pappy,” Crow whispered, turning to snuggle the cat.

“If we’re not back in an hour, come after us,” Atlas said, face solemn as he stared at Tor.

“I’d already planned on it,” the shifter answered.

I hadn’t realized how dangerous the River Coven was. The threat of the swamp witches hadn’t reached the Moon Coven in ages, but then the witches were never their targets. Always the shifters. Their coven leader, Circe, was the youngest of the leaders, and I would have bet the shop six months ago that she was well and truly good. Even when we were selected for the Trials, she was the kindest to me. And now, we were hunting her.

The second they left, my stomach began to churn. They’d gone straight into the lion’s den, it seemed. Bastian bumped me with a shoulder and held out a fist. He dropped a handful of various crystals into my palm and jutted his chin toward the map.

“Distract yourself. Where are the other Grimoires?”

The stones clicked together in the most satisfying sound as I shook them, working out my nerves. Closing my eyes, I focused on those individual thrums in my mind. Eight beautiful notes, each one pulling on me, willing me to step toward them. One would be manageable, but instead, they felt neurotic. A chasm of pandemonium, willing me to split myself apart to appease them equally. I pulled the green agate from the selection and placed it near Crescent Cottage.