The Witching Hour: 11 Enchanting Novels Featuring Witches, Wizards, Vampires, Shifters, Ghosts, Fae, and More!, page 144
“Good girl! What can I get for you?”
“Uh, I’m waiting for Boone,” I replied sheepishly.
Maggie gasped and jumped up and down. “I knew it! Mairead’s going to murder you in your sleep.”
“Shh! Turn down the volume. It’s…” I made a face. “I’m not sure what it is, and Mairead…well, she’s just got to deal with it.”
“I need details,” she demanded, leaning on the bar. “I’m starved for a good bit of gossip. Did he kiss you yet?” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down.
After my near drowning and the date I’d set with a magic-starved fae later, I wasn’t really in the mood for describing the waterlogged kiss Boone and I shared in the cave. I was far too anxious.
“There’s nothing to tell.” I shrugged, avoiding eye contact like the plague.
“Don’t hold out on me,” Maggie complained. “You’ve pierced an arrow through me heart.”
Glancing down the bar, I nodded to the group of old-timers with empty pint glasses. “I think duty’s calling.”
She sighed dramatically and straightened up. “You’re no fun!”
“When something exciting happens, I’ll let you know.”
“You better, Skye Williams!”
Sighing in relief as she went to serve, I picked up a menu and began worrying the corners. Where was Boone? It had been half an hour, and he hadn’t shown yet. What if something had happened to him on the way home? I’d never been to his place before. Hell, I didn’t even know where it was only that he lived a half-mile out of town. Was it a half? Maybe it was a full mile. How many kilometers was that?
“Ah, if it isn’t little Skye.”
Turning, I saw Sean McKinnon had sauntered into the pub. For the first time since I’d arrived in Derrydun, he was completely sober, and it was unsettling, to say the least. It didn’t seem to help his disposition toward me, which had always been a little bristly at best.
“Sean,” I said curtly.
“Did you and Boone have fun today? Did you go swimmin’ in a mud pool?”
“Calm your farm, Sean,” I said with a scowl. “Boone said he would clean it for you. I’ll even come over and buff the paintwork with a pure silk cloth. And I have a brand-new toothbrush, soft bristle, I can use to detail the mags if you so desire.”
He curled his lip and slid into a stool at the bar, knowing full well I was winding him up. He didn’t drive a luxury Maserati. He drove a two thousand and four Toyota Corolla.
“You’re just as lippy as Aileen,” he grumbled.
“Lippy?”
“She was always takin’ people down a peg or two with a sarcastic remark.”
“But they always deserved it,” Boone said behind us.
Turning, I smiled, thankful for his appearance. He hadn’t been eaten by monsters, after all.
“That was the problem,” Sean said.
“No hard feelings,” I said, smiling sweetly. “Just know, if you bait, I bite. Tit for tat and all of that.”
The farmer moaned. “Aye, and it hurts like a bitch.”
“Do you know what you would like to eat?” Boone asked, turning his attention on me.
He’d changed into a clean pair of jeans and his trademark T-shirt and shirt, but this time, it wasn’t red and black. It was a steely gray. Perfect for hiding in shadows.
I shook my head. “I’m too nervous to think straight. You choose.”
He grasped my shoulder with his big hand and squeezed. “I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared around the bar and into the kitchen. The moment the door swung shut, Sean turned and peered at me. He might be a drunk mourning the death of his late wife, but he still had sharp eyes, especially where Boone was concerned.
“Are you and Boone an item?” he questioned.
“An item of what?” I asked, pretending to be clueless.
“An item of love.” He pronounced it lerve, and his accent made it sound even sleazier.
“Mind your own business,” I retorted.
He made a kissy face that I really wanted to slap.
“Sean McKinnon!” Maggie boomed from the other end of the bar. “I already called dibs, so move your backside away from her!”
“Aww, Maggie,” he said with a moan. “Will you give me a kiss?”
“Not if your life depended on it.”
Grateful for the distraction, I slipped off the stool and found a table in a secluded corner. By the time Boone came back with two plates full of mashed potato, vegetables, and steak, I’d worked myself up into a ball of anxiety.
“What’s the plan?” I asked as he handed me a knife and fork. “Once the web is cast, then what? Will the you-know-what just show up?”
“It may not take the bait,” he replied. “So I’ll go out and herd it in.”
“Don’t tell me you can change into a border collie.”
He laughed. “Nay.”
“Damn. I like dogs.”
“Noted.” He winked. “So the plan is set.”
“I don’t like that you’re going to leave me alone in the dark,” I complained, piling my fork with potato. “As bait no less.”
“I’ll be there when it counts,” Boone said in an attempt to reassure me. “You won’t face it alone.”
I stuffed the potato into my mouth so I didn’t have to reply. I didn’t know what to say, anyway.
We left Molly McCreedy’s just after dark. The moon hadn’t quite risen, so the darkness in the woods was almost absolute.
Strangely, the sounds that once freaked me out were now ones of comfort. That cracking noise was just old branches breaking away from trunks of trees and clattering to the forest floor, the fluttering was just the leaves falling from boughs, and the scurrying belonged to nighttime creatures coming out to hunt for food. All normal comings and goings. It would worry me more if they fell silent, and I suppose they would when the craglorn neared.
The clearing opened ahead, and we stepped underneath the hawthorn, its presence overwhelmingly welcome.
The moon had begun to shine, her silver light forked through the trees as if she knew we were in a hurry to finish the night’s proceedings. I knew I was already dreaming of tomorrow.
“You’re ready?” Boone asked beside me.
“Yes.” I nodded and clutched the athame tighter. “Once the web is cast, then there’s no going back. It’s the point of no return.”
“We’ll be ready for it.”
The board was set, and all that was left to do was move the pieces. Glancing at Boone, I couldn’t help it when I began staring at his lips. C’mon, Skye, focus!
Moving to the first point, I plunged the tip of the athame into the earth and focused my will onto the anchor point.
The blade held the power for the saeclum naeniam—the spell for the subiit deserta—and my intuition would blend with it to create a web designed to catch a craglorn. Anything that stepped inside would be able to leave, except my intended prey. At least, that was the goal—there had been no time to practice. Skye ‘One-Shot’ Williams was on the case.
I continued to the next point and then the next, setting up the base of the spell. When there were five points, outlined in the shape of a pentagram—the symbol for all the elemental forces—I stood in the center of the clearing.
Holding out my hand palm up, I narrowed my eyes and tried to find my magic. It had been easier than I’d thought up until this point, but that was before the chance of kicking the bucket had become a reality, and Boone had kissed me. There were so many things left unsaid…and undone.
Letting out a long breath, I raised my hand, imagining a golden net emerging from the leaf litter. I couldn’t see it, but out the corner of my eye, Boone shivered.
“I can sense it,” he murmured.
I let my hand fall back to my side. “Then it’s done.”
Glancing at Boone, he smiled reassuringly, but only one thing was on my mind. We were on the precipice of a life-changing event, and all I wanted to know was if he wanted to be my boyfriend or not. I wanted to ask if he was satisfied with a single kiss or if he wanted more. If I meant more to him than the promise he’d made to my mother and the Crescent Witches. If he felt for me as I felt for him. All this time, I thought it had been a harmless crush, but now, in this place…I knew something more was growing in my heart.
“I better change,” he murmured.
I nodded awkwardly, my chance slipping away. He strode across the clearing, moving closer and closer to the woods. It was now or never. If something happened and I didn’t ask, I would regret it forever.
At the last second, I spun on my heel. “Boone?”
He paused at the tree line and glanced over his shoulder.
“What are we?” I blurted. “You and me?”
He turned, and his lips curved into a wicked grin. “My heart belongs to you, Skye Williams. Whether you want it or not.”
“I want you,” I murmured.
His smiled widened. “Are you finally askin’ me for that kiss?”
“I think it’s a bit too late for that.”
His laugh was a welcome sound, and he nodded, his hair falling into his eyes. “I think so.”
Finally, he turned and disappeared into the darkness, and a moment later, a white gyrfalcon appeared on the branches of the hawthorn.
“Be safe,” I said, raising my hand.
He flapped his wings and took flight, and then he was gone, a silent hunter in the night.
Listening to the woodland around me, it was alive with the sounds of nocturnal scurrying. There were no eyes watching me, and the feeling that tingled along my skin was anticipation. The battle was coming to me, and I was the one who would have to plunge the athame into its chest.
Nothing changed for a long time. I waited, holding my position in the center of the clearing, making sure I was underneath the branches that would protect me the most. I grasped the talisman in my free hand, my fingers stroking the golden crystal, hoping Boone’s theory was right.
Staring up at the hawthorn tree, the silver rays of the full moon trickled through the branches, dusting the clearing with an eerie glow. Under different circumstances, it might’ve been beautiful, but I wasn’t waiting for a lover to come and sweep me off my feet. I was waiting for a monster.
The sound of something moving through the woods echoed all around, and I spun, my heart leaping into my throat. Catching sight of the russet-colored fur of a fox melting through the forest, I sighed in relief. It was just Boone.
He stepped into the clearing and came to join me in the shadow of the hawthorn, a comforting companion in the dark of night.
My mind raced as the forest fell silent, and the craglorn loomed. Would I make Aileen proud? Was I going to live up to the legacy of the Crescent Witches, or was I just a big phony who’d struck it lucky?
“Do you think they would be proud?” I asked. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”
The fox yipped softly.
“My first test as the last Crescent Witch,” I murmured, holding the dagger flush against my chest. “No turning back now.”
My gaze darted frantically around the edges of the clearing, looking for the place where the craglorn would attack from. The silence was deafening, and the foreboding lingering in the air was suffocating.
“Where are you?” I mused, my heart thrumming painfully in my chest. “Show yourself.”
As if on command, a shadow emerged on my left as a creature forged through the tree line, and there it was. Finally.
It was shaped like a tall, thin man but had no clothes on and no shoes. Its body was bluish black, and its clawed hands were tipped with talons that looked as if they would gut me with one swipe. Add in a pair of beady, black eyes with no whites, and you had one extremely twisted and mummified fae. I got where the crag in craglorn came from now.
“That’s a craglorn?”
I began to tremble at the sight of it. It looked like something out of the movie Aliens, and at any moment, it would probably shoot a little baby craglorn out of some horrible orifice, then it would clamp down on my face and suck the magic out of me. Or maybe I was overreacting. Either way, I was in deep trouble.
“Uh…maybe I should’ve charged up a sword rather than a dagger,” I muttered. “I could have swiped at it from a distance. Instead, I have to get up all close and personal. Now I know how men with little you-know-whats feel like. I bet it has bad breath.”
Boone yipped and nudged me with his fox nose.
“If I survive this, I’m so learning mixed martial arts.”
The craglorn advanced, and the moment it crossed the boundary, the web caught it. A golden flare burst over our heads, the faint outline of the net burned into my vision, and the creature wailed. It was an unearthly cry that reverberated through my bones and caused terror to grow in my heart. It was pissed.
“Magic,” it said an urgent voice, tilting its head from side to side. “Magic…”
“That’s right,” I said, coaxing it closer. “It’s a buffet. Take a plate, and pull up a chair…”
Boone shifted from foot to foot, then began slinking around to the side, giving the craglorn a wide berth.
Holding the athame tightly in my hand, I tensed, readying myself to strike. We were stuck in here together, and the only way this was ending was with the dagger and the completion of the saeclum naeniam. It had to die so magic could live. It was my duty as a Crescent Witch.
The craglorn lifted its talons, and I swallowed hard. What if it grabbed me before I could stab it? What if it tore me apart as I tried to plunge the blade into its leathery flesh? Holy shite on a stick, deep fried, and rolled in edible glitter.
My hand shook, and I took a step toward it, raising the athame ready to stab. The craglorn must have had enough intelligence left to sense what I was about to do, and it wailed and backed away, but it smacked into the edges of the web and bounced back toward me.
Turning, it focused on me, snapping its jaws. I hadn’t noticed before, but its teeth were long and pointed, its gums receding away from the roots, exposing more sharp and pointy chompers. Great, as if the claws weren’t enough, it had to go and have razor-sharp teeth, as well!
It lunged, taking one step, then another, and I lifted the dagger, my fear wrestling with my resolve. Faltering, I slipped and fell, landing on my back, and the wind rushed out of my lungs. The craglorn leaped, and a red streak slammed into its side, forcing it to fly to the left and tumble through the leaf litter. Boone!
Scrambling backward, I pushed to my feet just as a yelp tore through the air. The craglorn tossed the fox aside as if he was nothing, and Boone somersaulted across the clearing. Over and over he rolled until he came to a stop and lay still.
There was blood. Lots of blood and my heart tore in two. No!
19
“Boone!”
The craglorn’s head twisted toward me, the hunger in its eyes chilling. It had hooked its claws into Boone’s fox shape like he was nothing, tearing his flesh and tossing him aside like he was a rag doll.
It didn’t want him. It wanted me. I was more powerful.
My aura was dripping with the magic it needed so desperately in order to survive. It was facing death, and killing me would save it.
Its biggest problem was the fact I wanted to live, too.
The cry of pain that burst from Boone stuck in my heart, and I roared, holding the athame high.
“You don’t belong here!” I boomed, calling on my magic. “Your time has passed!”
I felt the legacy of the Crescent Witches burning through my veins, and the power I’d tapped into while in the clutches of the sluagh felt nothing like it did now. It was so much more. It was a hot pool of liquid fire rushing around my body, the entire strength of the coven behind me. I was alone here in this clearing, but with the hawthorn behind me, I could feel each and every ancestor reaching out to help me realize one important thing.
They’d been with me all along. Before, after, and in between, Aileen had never left me because it was my legacy. We were a part of something bigger than ourselves. We were Crescent Witches. The most badass witches to have ever walked the earth.
I was a glowing beacon of golden light as I collided with the stunned craglorn. We tumbled across the clearing, colliding with the web and bouncing back with a crash.
I didn’t care about its nasty talons that were longer than my forearm. I didn’t care about the saliva dripping from its razor-sharp teeth. I cared that it had hurt Boone. I cared that after it was done with me, it would go through Derrydun and tear apart my friends.
With a roar, I raised the athame and struck, forcing the lifeblood of the land and the light of the Crescent Witches into the monster’s heart.
The blade sank into its chest, slicing through its flesh like butter. It wailed, and its eyes widened as it realized the end had come. One slice from the athame and the spell took hold, searing into the craglorn’s body like a white-hot flame.
I fell backward, scrambling to get out of the way of swiping claws as the creature writhed. Its cries of torment ripped the air apart, and I slapped my hands over my ears to block it out.
Its knees buckled, and it fell to the ground, thrashing as thin tendrils of smoke rose from the knife protruding from its chest. Horrified, I was frozen to the spot, my eyes glued to the death throes of the fae. Its thousand years of torment were finally over, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch. Death was not easy—not for me.
Finally, its cries dulled, its movements stilled, and all fell silent. That was how I heard the craglorn exhale for the last time. The soft sigh lingered on the air, chilling me to the bone.
It was dead, but at what cost?
“Boone!”
Skidding across the clearing, I fell to my knees next to the fox. His eyes were glassy, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth, his chest heaving with quick breaths. Blood matted his fur, the sight of the gash in his side making me feel sick to the stomach.
“Change back,” I pleaded. “Please…”
He lifted his head slightly, his gaze meeting mine, and I knew. He was stuck in his fox form, too weak to shift back.
