Page 5 of The Witch and The Blood Oath (The Witch and The Cowboy #2)

Freya

S hock, fear, and the heady thrum of Walker’s magic muddled my thoughts. Standing there in a vortex of his own electricity, he reminded me of a god, but not Zeus.

Prometheus.

And because of him, we would all burn.

You’re supposed to be a goddessdamned Coven Mother, I told myself, think.

I didn’t feel like a Coven Mother. I only felt afraid. I took a few calming breaths and tried to think of what my mother would do. The truth was she never would have allowed Walker’s unchecked power to go this far. I wished I hadn’t left Arion back at the apartments with Cadence. I wished someone—anyone—was standing beside me, but I was alone.

Even louder than before, thunder boomed. The clouds swirled across the dark night and eclipsed the beaming moon.

The cuffs.

These past weeks, I always carried an extra set in my tote, which I had stashed in Walker’s truck upon my arrival. I raced down the short hill and snatched the canvas bag out of the truck bed. Printed boldly on the beige fabric, Hecate’s three faces stared back at me in judgment.

As I raced up the hill, I focused on Walker. Once I got his magic under control, I would worry about erasing the humans’ memories.

It was a spell so dangerous, I had never done it before.

There’s a first time for everything.

As I closed in on Walker, the electric currents dancing across his skin stopped. The clouds dissipated, and the thunder ceased. I smiled at Walker in relief, but his expression was marred by fear.

My steps faltered.

“You stopped it,” I said, “right?”

Walker shook his head.

If the cowboy didn’t stop himself, what did?

I searched for an unseen adversary but discovered something far more chilling. Walker’s magic wasn’t the only thing at a standstill. Brody and Sawyer stood in the barn doorway wearing matching horrified expressions—expressions that didn’t shift at all. Halfway to his mouth, Brody’s hand hung midair, like it was frozen, except no ice encased his skin.

At first glance, I thought Nathan’s hand rested on his holster. It didn’t. Unwavering, it was stuck an inch above it.

Magic thickened the air. Like breathing in perfume, it was sickly sweet but acridly bitter. I reached for my own magic, but I couldn’t access it. When I focused on the rich ground beneath me and the sky full of energy above me, I still couldn’t summon it.

Was this what humans felt like?

It was awful.

Walker’s gaze caught something over my shoulder. “Freya,” he whispered and dipped his chin.

I turned and gasped.

She was a thing of nightmares. She was a thing of dreams. I had always wanted to meet her, yet I had dreaded this moment for months. Though no portraits or photos of her could be found, High Witch Cordelia stood before me.

She couldn’t have been anyone or anything else.

Her perfectly unblemished, smooth skin was so fair, it was almost transparent. A purple vein webbed over her temple. Her hair, which was piled atop her head in an intricate updo, was as white and shining as the moon. Her ghostly white dress billowed around her like fog. Every feature of her face was delicately crafted, from the gentle arch of her cheek to the curve of her cupid’s bow. Her haunting gray eyes bored into mine.

“I suppose it’s too late to bow,” I said, “given what I’ve done.”

I fell to my knees anyway. Walker drifted to my side and did the same. I dipped my chin in reverence, but the weight of Cordelia’s stare was an anvil I couldn’t escape. As she finally looked away from me, I sucked in a sharp breath of relief. Walker stiffened beside me.

“What a mess,” she crooned in a sparkling, soprano voice. “I could erase it all, as well as you, your coven, and your project here, Freya Redfern.”

The magic in the air grew thicker, until its noxious fumes burned my lungs. I finally understood the fear and approbation that was attached to High Witch Cordelia’s name.

She was magic incarnate.

Upon this realization, however, I no longer wanted to cower in fear.

I wanted to scream.

“Circe Lennox,” I whispered and raised my chin. “Luna Nightingale, Rose Halloway, Helena Wood. Sybil Redfern.”

Cordelia’s magic pressed in on me like an invisible vice, but I rose on shaky legs. Though he trembled, Walker mirrored the movement. Cordelia continued to stare with a mask of vacant grace. Her poise only added fuel to my fury.

“Do you know those names?” I asked. “The names of the witches who were killed while you did nothing?”

My magic flickered inside me, just out of reach. I didn’t care it was gone. If I was going to meet my end, I would go down doing what my mother would’ve done.

I would go down fighting for my coven.

“Kill me if it pleases you,” I said, “but all I’ve done—all my coven has done—is the best we can. Can you honestly say the same?”

As she stared at me with her terrifying, lovely eyes, I prayed to Hecate that she would spare my coven and Arion and—

And Walker.

“Freya is right,” Walker said.

I flinched. In my gut, I knew he was about to say something very foolish.

“She and her coven acted to eliminate a threat. They never put themselves at risk for exposure—it was me who did that. I’m the problem here—we all know it. If someone needs to be punished, it’s me.”

As Cordelia tilted her head in consideration, Walker shifted, almost imperceptibly, in front of me. Cordelia’s gaze tracked the movement like a lioness monitoring her prey. I braced myself for the death blow.

Cordelia laughed.

Like bell chimes, her chuckles echoed off the barn and across the hill. She lifted a manicured nail to wipe non-existent tears from her eyes. I glanced at Walker and wondered if my confusion was as clearly painted across my face as his was.

I could practically hear him asking, What the hell?

I gave the tiniest shake of my head and hoped my message was clear. Keep your mouth shut.

I focused once more on Cordelia, and the High Witch choked down her laughter.

“I’m sorry,” she said and smoothed her hands over her billowing skirts. “I haven’t been so amused in decades. The thought that you, Walker Reid, though you weren’t even born a witch, would get to pick your own punishment is…is…it’s preposterous, but I do thank you for the laughter.”

Cordelia cleared her throat and met my gaze. “And I’ve heard you have tenacity, Freya Redfern. I’m glad to see my sources were right. You’ll need all your strength for what’s in store, though I can’t promise you won’t wish I had merely Debased you. Remember, this is my mercy.”

“Is speaking in circles part of witch-training?” Walker muttered.

Cordelia glared at him, and he swallowed.

“No,” she answered sweetly, “and neither is transforming a hunter—my people’s sworn enemy—into one of us.”

Cordelia smiled, and Walker took a deep breath. The High Witch strolled closer to me. As she ran her hand over her chin, she examined me like a scientist would a cell under a microscope. I fought the urge to squirm.

“I suppose I should congratulate you,” she mused. “You did the impossible after all.”

I lifted my chin. “I did what I thought was right.”

“Of course.” Cordelia nodded. “Because I failed you—because I, the Leader of all witches, couldn’t be at your beck and call when you nor your mother could handle your own, single, coven?”

Like a phantom limb, my magic flared but remained beyond my control.

“My coven and my mother paid the price for your inability to keep your witches loyal to you,” I snapped.

“Incorrect,” Cordelia chided. “Your goddessmother’s and her cohorts’ hatred for me outweighed their devotion to you and your coven.”

Cordelia stepped closer, and her power stole my breath. Energy crackled in the air, and my curls lifted from my shoulders. I was completely frozen by Cordelia’s will and wicked, mighty magic.

“Besides,” Cordelia whispered. Power boomed in her breathy voice. “You’re not angry with me for being busy keeping the rest of our race safe. You’re angry with your goddessmother for leaving you in a heap of trouble so deep, you, young witchling, have lost all sense of direction. You’re so terribly lost, aren’t you?”

As my lungs ached with the need to breathe, and a tear burned a path down my icy cheek, the truth of Cordelia’s words rattled me. I wondered if this was how I would die—afraid and sad and utterly pathetic.

“Let her go,” Walker begged. “ Please let her go.”

When dark spots danced in my vision, Cordelia finally relented. As she smiled serenely, I gulped a huge lungful of air. Cordelia wiped the tear from my cheek with a disarmingly gentle touch.

“Would you like a chance at redemption, lost witchling?” she asked. “I must warn you redemption is far more frightening than punishment. Punishment requires mere resignation, but redemption—it takes effort.”

“What’s your offer?” Walker asked.

I was grateful he’d spoken. After facing the force of Cordelia’s magic, I had yet to regain my voice.

“It’s simple,” Cordelia promised. “I only need the two of you to retrieve something for me.”

“What’s something?” I asked.

“It’s very powerful,” she admitted. “In fact, it’s part of the very reason I did—in your words— nothing over these past few months.”

Though I was impatient, I waited for her to continue. I didn’t want to experience Cordelia’s wrath again. The High Witch studied us and smirked, as if pleased with our training.

This petty, egotistical witch is a Leader?

“It’s a creature,” Cordelia finally answered. “In the infancy of power now, but on the cusp of true horror. It must be collected by the next full moon.”

My gaze flickered to the round moon overhead.

One month.

We had one month to do Cordelia’s bidding. The timeline, however, wasn’t what concerned me most. Though it grated my nerves to stroke the High Witch’s ego, it was the best method to discovering what we were up against.

“I’m sorry for my emotional outburst,” I said with what I hoped passed for sincerity. “I have felt rather lost without my mother.”

Cordelia’s eyes lit with delight that reminded me of Arion’s satisfaction when he trapped a mouse in his paws. Walker balked at my shift in tone, but I ignored him.

“Though I have no right to ask,” I said, “I feel I must for the sake of succeeding in the task you’ve so graciously given us. Why haven’t you, with all your power and resources, captured the creature?”

For a heartbeat, Cordelia’s bravado wavered, and fear tightened the corners of her soulless gray eyes. She hid the flash of raw emotion so quickly, I wondered if I had imagined it.

“I’m not in the business of killing powerful, young witches with great promise,” she cooed and brushed a rogue curl behind my ear. “I want you to redeem yourself, lost witchling. I want you to prove to me that your project—” she looked pointedly at Walker, “—can be controlled.”

Cordelia’s expression was so earnest, I almost believed her.

“Your hunt for the creature will take you across the globe,” she continued. “Throughout it, if the hunter is able to control his magic, and you successfully retrieve your target, you and your coven will be granted full amnesty.”

Unease and hope tangled my stomach. Not only did I doubt Cordelia’s intentions, but I also wondered if Walker really would be able to control himself. From the grimace he wore, the cowboy shared my fears.

On the other hand, it was an offer I couldn’t refuse.

“This will help you track the creature,” the High Witch said.

Cordelia spun her pale hands in a circle, and a golden pendant appeared midair. She grabbed its thick gold chain and held it out to us. As the pendant twirled idly on the chain, I glimpsed a flash of rubies. I tried to sense any magic radiating from it, but I sensed nothing. Cordelia still had my magic on lockdown. As Walker eyed the pendant wearily, I reached for it but hesitated.

What if this offer was all some elaborate trick and touching the locket would curse us with horrible deaths?

Cordelia sighed. “If I wanted to curse you, I would’ve done it outright.”

Before I could grab the pendant, Walker snatched it from the High Witch’s grasp. I held my breath, waiting for him to erupt into flames or get encased in ice, but nothing happened. Convinced I wasn’t going to watch him die—at least not right now—I studied the pendant.

It was huge—big enough to belong to a man. Like the chain, the pendant was gold, and a strange creature was stamped onto it. It was a crouching lion whose tail was a serpent, but leathery wings sprouted from its back, and hooves replaced its hind paws. Rubies dotted the creature’s eyes.

“What is that?” I whispered.

Despite the lack of magic radiating from it, something about the pendant deeply disturbed me. I had never seen anything like it.

Distaste soured the High Witch’s tone. “A chimera.”

“That’s what we’re supposed to find?” Walker asked. “A chimera?”

Cordelia sighed. “Yes, but don’t fear. It is currently confined to a more humanoid form.”

“So it’s a person,” Walker deduced. “The thing you want us to capture is a person.”

Dread coiled like a snake in my stomach. The last time I had hunted down a man I believed to be a monster, I had nearly killed Walker.

“It may occasionally wear a person’s face,” Cordelia countered, “but there’s nothing human about it.”

As I stared into the High Witch’s lifeless eyes, she revealed nothing, yet I didn’t believe her. I didn’t buy that she wanted to save me for my talent. I certainly didn’t trust that capturing this chimera would be as easy as she wanted me to believe.

But how can I say no?

The alternative was to lose everything and everyone.

I swallowed. “We’ll do it.”

Walker scoffed and shook his head. As he backed away from me, horror rounded his eyes.

Cordelia grinned.

“Freya,” Walker growled. “We don’t know what this thing is. We don’t know what she’s going to do with it—”

“No,” I agreed. “We don’t. We only know what she’ll do if we don’t retrieve it. Think, cowboy, not with your heart but with your head.”

Walker’s electric blue gaze homed in on me. Turning my back on the High Witch, I faced him.

“Cadence,” I whispered.

His sister’s name broke Walker’s resolve, and his shoulders slumped. He took a deep, shaky breath.

“Okay,” he said quietly and cleared his throat. “Okay. We’ll track your chimera for you.”

Cordelia clutched her hands and tittered.

“Wonderful,” she said. “Now, a Blood Oath to ensure everyone gets what they want.”

What they want.

I wanted to go back in time before Cordelia had ever appeared. I wanted to go back before I had the fate of a coven and a cowboy resting on my shoulders. I wanted my mother back, and I wanted to forget Josephine’s betrayal.

Wanting didn’t get me very far.