Chapter 50
Rowyn
With a loud sob, Renata falls and pulls herself across the floor toward Archer’s body. I swear I hear her adrenaline crash at the same moment her knees smack the wood.
Looking around, she grabs something silver out of Archer’s leather jacket nearby. She’s not frantic like before. Now, she’s emotional but methodical. Before I can make sense of what’s happening, she rips his hand out of Sybil’s, making her shriek, and cuts Archer’s palm open.
“Renata, oh my G—” I call and lunge at her.
She twists her body away from me and cuts open her hand.
“What are you doing?” I reach for the knife, but she holds it away.
“I can’t, Rowyn,” she cries and holds her bloody hand to her chest. “I can’t—I can’t lose him. I just…” Her voice cracks and she tries to speak but nothing comes out.
“Renata,” I murmur and shake my head. I don’t know if I’m horrified at their impulsive decision, or in awe of the commitment that’s grown between them. “I’ll help you. We’ll all help you. When did you two…?”
She uses the back of her uninjured hand to wipe her tears. “Only a few nights ago.”
“You really did it. You made the bond,” I say quietly.
Everyone’s attention, including Sybil’s, turns to Renata.
She looks around the group, gulping in air and holding her cut hand away from Archer’s body.
We all look at each other as realization settles over us. The coven was always going to try to resurrect Archer, but it’s not only his life anymore. Renata truly cannot live without him.
Esme speaks first. “How do we do this?”
Renata bites her lip and looks around the group, gauging our support. When she sees the love and sincerity from each of us, she lets out a deep breath.
“I honestly don’t know. I’ve never done this,” she admits.
“Oh my Gods,” Sybil cries out. The adrenaline is beginning to drain out of all of us, grief slipping its way through the cracks.
Esme turns toward and snaps her fingers twice in front of Sybil’s face. “Pull it together, or leave. We all understand if this is too much for you, but you can’t do that here.”
Sybil takes a deep breath and a new wave of tears drips down her cheeks, but she closes her quivering lips.
“I’ve read about a few different rituals. It was years ago though. I’ve never attempted anything like this,” she explains.
She tries to wipe her hair away, but stops when she finally notices all the blood. Clementine, who has been outside of the salt circle and terrified since Archer’s body dropped, comes up behind Renata and gently ties her hair back in a low ponytail.
“Thank you,” Renata says.
The young witch nods once and joins the circle, sitting next to her sister.
“Um,” Renata says and looks around. “The salt circle is good, I think. We should relight the candles. Rowyn, if you have any angelica that might be good. We can grind it up or light a small bowl… I don’t know. Whatever you think is best.”
I catch Clementine’s eye. She always does best when she feels useful, and she’s helped me in the kitchen enough to find everything.
Esme and I start lighting the candles again. By the time we’re done, Clementine is running back into the room with a variety of bowls.
“I brought the angelica,” she says and sets it down. “I also grabbed peppermint and tobacco.”
Renata asked for angelica, since it can be used for protection and creating a sacred barrier around us.
Clementine is a brilliant, young witch to have thought to grab the other two. Peppermint for purification and calling upon a spirit. Tobacco for protection of the spirit and creating a clear path for his soul back into his body.
Renata’s only half paying attention, but Clover and I offer her an impressed look.
“Cassia must have left some herbology books lying around,” she says and shrugs shyly.
“Okay, yeah,” Renata says and looks around. “I… I think this should be good. I’m hoping our bond will fill in the gaps.”
Esme nods encouragingly, but none of us are sure of what we’re doing.
With that, we all take a seat around Archer’s body and wait for her directions. She looks around with tears in her eyes, full of confusion. After a few seconds, she sucks in a deep breath and sits straight.
She wipes the blood off her hand and makes sure it’s actively bleeding. It isn’t gushing, so I’m not worried, but I don’t want her or Archer losing more either.
“Should we do that?” Esme asks and reaches for the knife.
“No, I don’t think so,” Renata says and grabs Archer’s hand that she cut. “I don’t know how it would affect any of you. I’ll give anything to bring him back but I wouldn’t ask that of you—”
Sybil grabs it from Esme’s hand and cuts a small line across her palm. “Anything,” she says with conviction.
Esme grabs the knife next and makes a small incision as well. She holds it out, looking between Clover and me. Clementine reaches for it first. Before Clover can stop her, she makes a cut and holds the pocket knife out.
“We said we’d fight for a coven—a family—and Archer is a part of that,” she says. “It’s not a question, Lo.”
Her sister stares at her for a moment with a mix of awe and fear, but she takes the knife and repeats the process. When she hands it to me, I grab it without hesitation and do the same.
When I catch Renata’s eye, she’s looking around the circle with a deep level of appreciation. Clementine was right; we’re a coven and a family now. I’d do anything to save either of them.
“It’ll be better if we all harness our magic into Archer rather than let me siphon your power,” Renata says.
She doesn’t look certain, but it makes enough sense to me. I reach forward and place my cut hand on his neck. The direct contact is better than through his clothes, especially because I don’t think any of us want to cut his body more than necessary, like on his palm Renata will hold.
Once we each have one hand on Archer, our other hands are placed on the knee of whoever is next to us, creating a circle of magic to transfer between all of us. Renata says the incantation.
“Accipe sanguinem meum, vim vitalem magicam. Spiritus et corpus iterum unum fiunt.”
When Renata finishes, she looks at me—so I say it once by myself.
“Accipe sanguinem meum, vim vitalem magicam. Spiritus et corpus iterum unum fiunt.”
In a circle, the other witches do the same until it gets back to Renata.
With a nod, she silently directs us to chant it together now. Closing our eyes, we concentrate on Archer and call out to the fates who hold our souls.
“Accipe sanguinem meum, vim vitalem magicam. Spiritus et corpus iterum unum fiunt.”
Our voices mingle together and echo around us. It gets so loud, forcing me to peek through my lashes. All around us are spirits—some more corporeal than others. Standing behind Renata, just on the other side of the salt circle, are Petra and Barrett.
Never breaking the chant, I slowly move my eyes around the circle, seeing our ancestors. Cassia stands behind the Foxglove sisters and Everly is behind Sybil. Looking over my shoulder, I see Rhiannon—her presence a balm to my soul.
Behind the coven, there are other spirits who are here—Gray Witches from the Blackthorn line.
One in particular, standing a few feet behind Petra, is an older woman that I recognize.
Cordelia.
From her side, another familiar face walks up and joins in—my gran—with sweet Edmond standing behind his Chosen.
Gran stands strong and proud, holding Cordelia and Rhiannon’s hands. She looks down at me with a warm smile I miss every day and winks before turning her full attention back to Archer.
With tears in my eyes, I do the same. Two dark figures move through the shadows, stopping right where Cordelia and Edmond stand. Quickly turning, I watch all of the animals find their bonded witch.
Astra rests her head on Clover’s, glowing more than usual. Echo lands on Sybil’s head, and Nimble crawls into Esme’s lap. Even Whisper is lying his head across Archer’s stomach.
They’re helping us.
Familiars are so much more than a companion, but I’ve never seen one participate in a ritual.
It’s old magic that is only required in the most dire situations.
The heavy weight of this moment, and our families’ histories, grows as I realize that this is only the beginning for us.
Barrett promised we have many enemies to expect.
A large paw lands on my back, startling me out of my growing panic until I realize it belongs to Feralia. Having almost broken the chant, I shake my head and focus again. Only my attention snags on Hexate who is wrapped around Renata’s waist.
She’s chanting the words, but Renata and her familiar stare at each other, having some unspoken conversation. Confusion is etched across her features, then she nods. We each have an innate understanding with our bonded animals, but we can’t fully communicate with them.
What did she just agree to?
A second later, Hexate pulls back before striking. All five of our chants stutter as the rattlesnake bites Renata’s thigh. The words quietly echo around us as the spirits keep the ritual going. Blood drips from the two wounds and venom begins to ooze out.
Renata throws her head back, screaming in pain. Through clenched teeth she commands, “Don’t stop.”
I quickly start saying the words again, trying to match my coven and the spirits. All of our gazes stay on Renata, who is writhing in pain, but hasn’t stopped the incantation.
Her muscles begin to loosen and she slowly rolls her head forward. When she opens her eyes, loud gasps rip out of us. Clementine even squeals in fright. We don’t pause.
Not even when Renata looks forward, eyes rolled back and glowing white like she’s possessed.
A surge of magic runs through me and around the circle.
From his spot on Archer’s stomach, Whisper starts to howl loudly.
All of our familiars begin making a cacophony of noises, and electricity starts to spark in my veins.
It’s created a circuit through our connection and grows stronger from our familiars.
Hexate injected Renata with magic, fueling her depleting store of it.
I’ve never seen anything like this type of power.
A small orb of light floats above Archer’s chest, growing brighter quickly now.
“Don’t stop,” Renata gasps out as her spirit floats out of her mouth and takes all the air with her.
There’s a soft tug on my chest pulling me toward Archer’s soul. It’s not as strong. Still, a faint small wisp leaves my body. Same for the rest of the coven.
When the air thins and we’re gasping for breath, all of our ancestors keep the chant going for us again.
We’ve never truly been alone.
The force grows stronger, constricting my lungs and pulling out every breath of air until I begin to worry that the magic will take my entire soul—all of ours. Leaving nothing but husks of ourselves for Archer to find.
The panic only makes it harder to breathe, and right as I truly believe I’m about to die, the hold on my chest releases at the same time we all take a collective breath.
Except for Renata.
Her spirit leaves her body and tangles with Archer’s, dancing in the space above his chest. Each of our souls flutter over Archer’s body before sinking into his skin.
Color slowly starts to rush across his skin. It isn’t until their souls split and return to their own bodies that he takes a deep, gasping breath.
“Oh, thank the Gods,” Sybil cries when his chest slows to a stable, but shallow, rhythm.
At the same moment, the chanting around us stops, and the room warms up.
Renata gasps right before she faints, falling in her and Archer’s blood.