Page 95 of The Unbound Witch

He crawled to the edge of the bridge, shifted, and lifted himself off the ground, diving unseen into the line of trees on the backside of the huts.

“There’s not going to be a stealthy way to do this. We have to go in, hope they are smart enough to keep their magic at bay, and overpower them. If anyone casts, we could all die.”

Kirsi cleared her throat. “Wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

36

RAVEN

Iclutched the edges of my cloak, squeezing my eyes shut. This could all go horribly wrong, and odds were, it would. I sent a prayer up to the goddess and pretended I could feel her ethereal warmth against my cheek where she had touched me. We inched forward under the cluster of huts and wooden bridge, through the sludge of shallow water and putrid weeds, toward a set of stairs near the farthest building. Moss hung low from the musty planks, tangling us in foliage as we passed.

A sharp hiss from Kirsi was all the warning we had before the alligator's eyes popped up above the water, directly in front of us. My heart froze. I held my breath. No longer concerned about being seen, we turned and ran. But also very well aware that we could not outrun the alligator in the water. He was too fast. His body, twisting and thrashing, causing more of a commotion than anything else around. We were steps from a separate set of stairs. The beast’s long giant mouth opened directly on my heel and snapped shut, barely missing me.

Kirsi turned feral, diving for the beast. I looked over my shoulder just in time to see her riding on top of the alligator and shoving her hand into his eye socket to rip out his eye.

“I don’t know where his fucking heart is,” she screamed, though it was still hardly audible over the splashing of the water.

“Go!” Bastian ordered, shoving me up the stairs while the animal turned, trying to find his assailant. “Remind me to tell you how much I love you later, Kir.”

We ran up the stairs, diving behind a hut. The beast didn’t follow.

“Okay, but maybe tell me what to do with this thing first?” She shoved her hand forward, displaying the bloody eyeball.

“They make for a nice stew,” an old, croaky voice said from behind us.

Spinning, I took in every disgusting feature of an old, spirit blessed swamp witch. Cavernous wrinkles covered her, rimming her mouth and enhancing her paper-thin skin. I expected markings on most of her body, but they were sparse, or lost within the crevices of the wrinkles and hiding beneath the age marks.

She lifted the edge of her thin black dress, showing off long yellow toenails, and bony, little legs. “You will return that eye, girl. Or I’ll trap you in a salt circle and have your little friends here for dinner.”

Kirsi dropped the eye. It plopped on the ground in front of us, rolling slightly. My stomach rolled more than it did. I glanced up to Bastian, whose eyes hadn’t left the witch, fists heavy at his side. Unable to cast, I’m sure he felt as restricted as I did.

“Where is your coven leader?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“She’ll be along,” she answered.

I swallowed, wracking my brain for a way out of this. But it wouldn’t be me that saved us, nor Bastian or Kirsi. Instead, Willow Moonhollow stepped around the corner, bashed the old witch over the head with a dampened log, and looked over her shoulder to make sure no one had seen her. The wound she’d gotten from the final Trial had nearly healed, leaving its permanent mark across her face in an angry red scar. Her eyes were distant now. Complacent even.

“There isn’t time for explanations. Follow me.”

I stepped backward, hiding my bark of laughter. “You want us to trust you?”

She swatted her chestnut hair over her shoulder as she looked at Grey. “I just saved your asses, didn’t I? I’ll take you to the Grimoires. Isn’t that what you’ve come for? I’ve been sitting in the miserable swap waiting for my chance to leave, but I’m stuck until something happens. Strict orders from Endora Mossbrook. You have to take them and go quickly. Before Circe gets back.”

“What choice do we have?” Grey asked, stepping away from me. “Come on, witch.”

The words were meant to drive a bit of doubt into her mind about everything the world might have assumed happened after the death of the Dark King. Perhaps I was his prisoner, just as we’d planted back in the Moon Coven. The delight in her eyes at his command spoke volumes. Still, why had she saved us? I turned over my shoulder, but Kir was nowhere to be seen.

Willow led us directly to the main walkway, the small village of huts stemming off from it. I thought her foolish to show us off, to not hide in any capacity, especially after she’d just attacked a swamp witch. But there was no one out, no sounds. As if all the witches hid in their huts or had managed to leave the area as they’d been commanded to do.

The two Grimoires thrummed louder in my mind, their pull gripping my throat from the hut we were being led to. I braced myself for the whispers to begin. Like the buzzing of bees, audible but hard to understand beyond the ‘we are’ I’d maybe heard before. Each step we took seemed to be a pluck of that tight string between us. The one no one else seemed to have but me.

I dragged a ragged breath into my lungs, trying to prepare myself for the next several minutes. Casting when in danger was an instinct. Even I couldn’t say I would remember in a moment of weakness and refrain from using my power. Still, whatever Willow’s game, I was glad to be rid of the swamp witch.

Approaching the leaning cabin at the end of the bridge, Willow halted, dropping her head for just a moment before pushing open the door. She moved to the side, letting us go first with her head down, as if ashamed to show the scar upon her beautiful face. Stepping into the darkness, I had no doubt Bash would have preferred to send his shadows in first, but since he could not use magic, we had to simply trust the witch I would have killed in the final trial, given the chance.

Entering the room with two Grimoires nearly took me to my knees. I could hear them, feel them, nearly taste them, as the potency of their power seeped into my veins. I wanted them in my hands. Needed them.

Bastian’s hand clapped around my wrist, stopping me from my slow progression forward. I had no idea I was moving, but when it came to the Grimoires’ steep magic, it seemed I couldn’t control myself.