Page 30 of The Witch and The Blood Oath (The Witch and The Cowboy #2)

Walker

“D o you want to waste the day hiking through the jungle?” Freya asked. “Or do you want to get to the dark witches’ home as soon as possible to figure out where Elle is?”

“Just go,” Ryder grumbled.

As I studied the waves that crashed against the rocks beneath us, I didn’t share the werewolf’s certainty. We stood on the edge of the cliff where Ryder and I had been ensnared by the sirens’ song.

Arion whinnied and reared. His black coat glimmered, and his eyes blazed with power. Looking at him now, I never would’ve guessed he’d knocked on death’s door mere hours ago. My gaze returned to the cliffside.

“I know he can walk on water,” I argued, “but that’s a pretty big leap.”

“He can do this,” Freya promised. “And I’ll steady his descent.”

“C’mon, Walkie,” Cady chided. “We’ve done crazier things. This will be fun—like a roller coaster.”

A roller coaster without seat belts, engineers, and captained by a demon cat.

I was surprised Disney hadn’t added it to any of its parks.

“Fine,” I agreed. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I’ll come back for you,” Freya promised Ryder.

Much to the werewolf’s chagrin, we couldn’t all fit on Arion’s back, so the familiar and Freya would have to take two round trips. No kelpies lingered near the island, so I was forced to travel via familiar once again.

He grunted. “You better.”

Freya swung herself onto Arion’s back and helped me set Cadence behind her. After I mounted, I struggled with where to place my hands. I couldn’t grip my little sister, but I wasn’t eager to grab Freya’s waist.

“I won’t burn you,” Freya sniped. “Grab some mane or you’ll fly off and we’ll have to scrape you off the rocks.”

“Your caring nature warms my heart,” I muttered and reached around Freya to grab two fistfuls of Arion’s dark locks.

“Use your legs to hold on,” I reminded Cady.

As soon as the words left my mouth, Arion leaped.

My stomach bottomed out and if it wasn’t so empty, I would’ve hurled. As Arion dove toward the ocean, the dark rocks raced to meet us, and ocean water sprayed my skin. It took every ounce of my strength to keep from tumbling off the beast’s back. A huge gust of wind righted the familiar’s nosedive, and he hit the water running.

Wind and sea salt pelted my body, but I couldn’t deny the freedom of Arion’s speed. We raced across the water as fast as lightning. I gripped with both my legs and hands for dear life and caged Cady between my arms. Luckily, the girl had impeccable balance and didn’t need much help from me to stay on.

As the scenery changed from streaks of blue water and endless sunshine to green grass and towering trees, the temperatures dropped.

“Whoa,” Freya proclaimed.

I threw all my momentum back, and the familiar halted. For a moment, I simply sat and reoriented myself to a world that wasn’t a mere blur of speed and flashing colors. When I was sure I wasn’t going to fall or be sick, I slid my leg over Arion’s hip and dismounted. I helped Cady off Arion’s back and took in our surroundings.

Dusk had settled over the familiar mountains of Montana. The wind, uninhibited by the barren, mountainous land, chilled my sea-spray-soaked skin. My damp clothes clung to me, and I squirmed.

“Oh, don’t complain about your wet jeans,” Cady chided. “At least you’re not covered in honey and dirt.”

Freya cursed. “Sorry, I meant to do something about that once my magic bounced back from all the healing. Here.”

Freya whispered a spell, and her magic buzzed in the air. Mine hummed in response, but I ignored the pleasant heat in my veins. Freya waved a hand and suddenly, Cadence stood beside me with clean skin and a fully restored pink shirt, jeans, and sneakers.

Freya flicked her wrist in my direction, and a huge gust of wind nearly knocked me off my feet. Arion nickered, and Freya smirked.

“There,” she said, “you’re dry. We’ll be back in no time.”

“Be care—” She and Arion jetted back down the mountain.

“Something weird is going on between you two,” Cady remarked.

“Not as weird as your crush on Ryder,” I countered. “You shouldn’t eyeball naked werewolves, Cady-Cat. It’s creepy.”

Cady snickered and flicked my arm. As we chuckled, Freya, Ryder, and Arion reappeared. Ryder slid off Arion’s back and frowned.

“What are you two laughing about?” he asked.

Cady’s face turned pink, and I snorted. Freya and Ryder eyed us like we were nuts, but laughter was a relief. Once Arion shifted back into his cat form, and Freya led us toward the home of the dark witches, we sobered.

The four of us crept up the side of the mountain. As we climbed higher, the grass lost its color and crunched under our feet. The wind howled, and I was grateful Freya had dried the water from my clothes.

When we crested the mountaintop, Freya stopped, raised her pointer finger to her lips, and sank to her knees. Following her lead, we army crawled across the brittle grass, dirt, and dead weeds, toward a distant house. Sunlight streaked across the horizon, and I squinted.

Intoxicating scents of fresh bread, warm stew, and saccharine honey wafted on the chilly breeze. I held my hand up against the sunlight and glimpsed a mansion sprawled across the dead grass. Every spire, wall, and windowpane was bone-white. A gravel walkway led to its towering front door.

“They really know how to stick to a color scheme,” I muttered.

Cady snickered.

“For witches,” Freya whispered, “white is the color of death.”

I studied the mountain further. Across the skyline, several other peaks reached higher into the sky. The air was thin, but it didn’t burn my lungs like only the air on a crazy-high peak could. There was no reason for the barren landscape before us.

Another breeze carried the rich sent of baked goods, and my stomach growled louder. I no longer cared why this whole mountain was dead.

I was hungry.

Following the breeze, I lurched forward, but Freya caught my arm in a death-grip.

“Did you ever learn the tale of Hansel and Gretel?” she whispered.

My stomach turned. “No. No way you’re telling me the dark witches are the origin of the worst kids’ story ever.”

“I am,” she said, “which is only partly why we can’t storm their mansion. It’s also surrounded by dozens of wards, all designed to kill you and store your soul so they may feed on it when it suits them.”

Her words soured the hunger in my stomach, and I nodded. Ryder fidgeted but didn’t budge from our hiding place, and Cady swallowed.

“Disassemble the wards,” Ryder ordered.

If I had thought he was surly before losing his mate, he was damn near unbearable now.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “How do we disassemble them?”

“Take my hand,” Freya instructed.

My heart skipped a beat, but I hesitated.

“Why?” I asked.

Freya sighed. “Remember how I borrowed some of your magic to heal Arion and Cady? I need to borrow some again to tackle these wards.”

Right.

I closed my hand around Freya’s, and heat flared between our joined palms. My magic burned and fluttered under my skin, but I couldn’t loosen the tight leash I kept it on.

“Let go,” Freya whispered. “You can trust me, cowboy. Just let go.”

I tried and failed to relinquish my grip on my power. I couldn’t escape the memory of Cadence’s mangled, burned body, and the sharp knife of Freya’s betrayal.

“C’mon, man,” Ryder grumbled, “now is not the time to struggle to magically get it up.”

I glowered at the werewolf, and my magic sparked. As soon as my power searched for an outlet, Freya latched onto it through our bond, like a tug on my chest. Pleasant heat flowed to Freya’s palm.

“That’s enough,” she said. “That’s enough!”

I tried to let go of her hand, but the pull of the magic was too strong. Now that our power knew what it was like to be truly connected, it didn’t want it to let go.

“Walker!” Cady said. “It’s too much!”

My magic flowed into Freya, and hers flowed into me. Her thrumming power roared in my ears. It didn’t burn as hotly as mine, but it was loud and wild and almost uncontrollable.

How did she contain it with such cool precision?

“What the Hell,” a chilling, familiar voice asked, “is going on here?”

Mara, Coven Mother of the dark witches, stood before us. Her extravagant black gown matched her creepy, entirely dark eyes, but it was her grin that gave me chills. She didn’t give us a chance to answer before she launched a dagger at our heads, and her coven attacked.

We rolled out of the way, and the air whooshed beside my head. Magic pulsed throughout my body like the headiest drug. I leaped to my feet and blocked Cady from Mara’s view.

In a blur of fur and fangs, Arion shifted into his saber-toothed tiger form. In a state of partial-shift, Ryder swiped his claws through dark witches, and their inky blood sprayed through the air. As more dark witches portaled into existence, I struggled to breath under the weight of the magic raging in my system. Only a few feet away, Freya shook from the force of the power we had shared.

The dark witches wore the same ridiculous stilettos and wielded the same terrible magic. Silver daggers, ice, and fire darted through the air and aimed at our hearts. Their spells crawled like ants on my skin. For a moment, I was stunned by the weight of their dark power, and a memory flashed—Freya, rendered unconscious by the dark witches’ spell.

“Walker!” Cady warned and pushed me out of the way of a flying dagger.

The close call pulled me back into the present.

“Use our power,” Freya called, “fight it!”

I called on the magic that thrummed in veins and willed it to attack the outside magic like an immune system. Our power burned through the spell in an instant, and I pulled the Sol Sword from its sheath. Lightning crackled on the blade but so did brilliant, orange flames.

Without stopping to admire what our magic created, I swiped the weapon at any dark witches who crept close and used it to cut through their flying elements. It was as easy as slicing butter, and I reveled in the apprehension on their faces.

I was not the guileless cowboy they remembered.

I was a warlock.

As I batted the dark witches away, Cadence tripped and trapped them with thick vines and roots. Ryder leaped out of the way of the dark witches’ daggers, and familiar magic radiated from his form—Freya had cast a protective spell over him.

Freya fought like a spring storm.

Wind and lightning encircled her and struck any dark witch who ventured too close. As I witnessed Freya wield it, I recognized how incredible my natural element was.

Something struck my side.

As I crumpled to the ground, Freya screamed, and Cady’s magic swelled. I clutched the burning wound but forced my fingers apart to study it. An icicle was embedded in my flesh. Cursing under my breath, I pried it out and willed my magic to heal me before I passed out from blood loss. The wound itched and burned but knitted back together.

Despite the pain in my side, I forced myself to stand and gasped. A red-haired dark witch lay before me, covered in vines from her toes to her neck. As the vines tightened and tightened around her pale, delicate throat, her face turned purple. Beside me, Cady’s eyes glowed with power, and she twisted the hand she pointed at the witch into a fist. The vines choked the witch’s croaks.

“Cady,” I said, “ Cadence, stop.”

Cady unclenched her fist, and her vines loosened. The dark witch gulped huge breaths of air and spat curses, but I ignored her and pulled my sister closer.

“I’m okay,” I promised.

In front of us, the dark witch shook off her vines and launched a slew of icicles at us. I incinerated them with a blast of Freya’s fire and prowled closer toward the witch who clearly had a death wish.

Magic amplified Freya’s voice. “Enough!”

Freya’s command settled over us, and everyone paused.

“We are not here to fight you,” Freya promised. Ryder growled, but she ignored him. “No, we are here because we have a common enemy.”

A nearby dark witch—blonde and petite and alarmingly familiar—snarled. “That doesn’t really matter after you murdered our sisters last spring.”

She multiplied into three forms before our very eyes.

“Not this witch again,” I muttered.

Their Coven Mother—Mara—came to the forefront. Her gray hair shined in the watery sunlight, and a smile tugged the corners of her unlined, blood-red lips.

“Let’s hear what they have to say,” she ordered.

As soon as she finished her sentence, murmurs of disagreement broke out among her coven, which Mara silenced with a glare.

Freya dropped her stormy shield and spoke. “Nearly four months ago, you and your coven wished to storm the High Witch’s court. I’m here to learn how.”